


Monstrare

by legendarytobes



Series: Monstrous [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Deckerstar - Freeform, F/M, Monster sex, NC-17, Porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Lucifer is still dealing with a mix of self-loathing, doubt, and insecurities after returning home from Hell, and it's causing hiccups in his intimate relationship with Chloe. Damn angel self-actualization.
Relationships: lucifer morningstar/Chloe Decker
Series: Monstrous [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699081
Comments: 80
Kudos: 154





	1. Subzero

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Monere. Definitely involves monster!sex so probably not for everyone.

**Monstrare**

‘Monster’ probably derives from the Latin, _monstrare,_ meaning ‘to demonstrate,’ and _monere,_ ‘to warn.’ Monsters, in essence, are _demonstrative_. They reveal, portend, show, and make evident, often uncomfortably so. The modern gothic monster…[may] have acted as important social tool[s].

\---[From the University of Cambridge](https://www.cam.ac.uk/research/discussion/what-is-a-monster)

Linda watched Lucifer closely.

She’d done that often in session. For all his suave and ridiculously expensive wardrobe and rigidly put together appearance, Lucifer still had his tells. She’d learned them all over the years: a sex joke here to try and distract her when she dug too deep, a bit of distraction by yanking out his cell phone no matter how many times she told him about her no phones in session rule, and the tics. He’d brush lint off spotless lapels, adjust his cufflinks---first right then left, always, and cross his legs and uncross them as if adjusting himself on the throne he no longer sat on. If he were extremely agitated, he’d twist that onyx ring on his finger. Linda still didn’t know much about it, no more than what Amenadiel had intimated and that vaguely Lucifer’s father had given it to him. If it had been given in a rare happy moment before the Fall or after as a punishment after and he _couldn’t_ take it off.

But when he was most rattled, Lucifer played with it.

For some reason, after almost four years together on and off (way off while he was ruling Hell again), Lucifer thought she didn’t notice.

What exactly did he think he was paying her for?

“So, is there something perhaps more profound, you’d like to talk about today?” she asked, tapping her pen on her pad perhaps less than patiently.

Lucifer twisted the ring again and eyed her, trying to fend off her probing with a debonair smile that once, long ago, had disarmed her too. But it was far too late in their relationship for that. “I was telling you how frustrating it is to try and deal with Maze lately. I respect she’s her own woman now, but when I do contract her out for a bounty on that low-life dealer who swindled me---Me! On the bad Molly, then I really wish I’d take top priority.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Maze is doing as much as she can to rectify the situation,” she replied. Tap, tap, tap. “However, I don’t think that’s what’s truly bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me, dear doctor. Everything’s coming up, Lucifer, minus that drug dealing welch. My club has a reputation to maintain of course.”

“As a medical professional and state mandated reporter, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Do as you wish.”

How magnanimous.

“However, your first big weekend with Chloe was almost a month ago. You’ve been very forward about your cases and with dealing with Dan’s barbs at work over the new developments. You’ve even lamented over your quest to and I quote ‘ensure the Detective learns to drink something utter than swill.’”

“I do worry about her. She’s mortal, after all, and that turpentine can’t be kind to her, gastronomically speaking.”

“Lucifer, not to put too fine a point on it, but how is, well, intimacy going with Chloe?” Lucifer leaned forward and leered. She held up a hand and shook her head. “No, we are not doing this. You’re going to try and proposition me for old time’s sake, tell a joke about Amenadiel being a poor brotherly substitute, and then try and move on to anything else.”

“I am _not_ that bloody predictable, doctor.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” he replied begrudgingly, and she forced herself not to smirk back. She was being professional even if he kind of brother-in-law was often petulant. “You weren’t wrong, but if I said it, I’d have been rakishly charming doing it.”

“Yes, of course, exactly what I needed on the clock. You can’t avoid the topic forever. You’ve done an admirable job so far, for almost three weeks, but if my job is to help you with your self-image and part of that ties into your relationship with Chloe, of course. Have other incidences happened since Valentine’s Day?”

Lucifer stopped twisting his ring and leaned back in on the sofa. “We haven’t gotten that far. The weekend, it took a bit of time to fully calm down, so to speak. But we haven’t been quite that level of intimate between us, unusual as it was since. I suppose I’ve been acting like some timid adolescent with stolen make outs on the settee and sneaking into the evidence locker at work.”

“Oh, do cops do that a lot?” Linda asked, unable to stop herself.

“More often than you’d think,” he said, winking and touching the side of his nose. “The Devil always knows what people have been up to. Late on third shift, especially on the weekends, there are late night antics in the file and copying room too.”

“I’m not sure if that gives me any confidence in the police squad,” she replied. “Anyway, how has taking it more slowly been going?”

“It’s giving me blue balls.”

She blanched at that, unable to keep her mind for imaging the actual occurrence of such a thing. “What?”

“Sorry, hazards of self-actualization. I was being metaphorical in that case. I don’t mind if that’s what the detective wants. I could take it at any pace she would set, but I feel after so many years, well, I owe her far more than timidity. I owe her more than either holding back and fumbling around because I’m _afraid_ that other side of me with come out, or perhaps worse, that she somehow _prefers_ that side to this perfection,” he said, gesturing haphazardly to himself as if she’d be confused.

If one didn’t know Lucifer Morningstar, or if they were one of the myriad of humans who traipsed through his club, they’d have thought he was being narcissistic. Not that Lucifer couldn’t be. He definitely could. She’d never had a client who tended to make everything he did about work somehow _all about himself_ , even if it involved literal murder scenes. However, Linda had always seen through him from the first day they’d met, those little insecurities, ones that had always sprung up the easiest around Chloe.

It was no different, just more of him trying to play everything off as if it didn’t bother him but when all of that distress was very often written on his skin.

“We talked about this, just because your first time was unconventional,” she said, proud of herself for very much not looking at his lap because while she was a professional, Linda was only human and it was a Hell of a story (pun not intended). “it doesn’t mean that it sets a precedent either way.”

“Well, I’d rather like to think the detective doesn’t prefer her lovers Kentucky fried,” Lucifer groused before grabbing for a Jolly Rancher from the bowl and shoving it in his mouth.

“That’s not funny, and it’s far from fair to you.”

“You’ve never seen it. It’s rather horrifying even without the abnormal endowments for the weekend, which, I must stress turn out to be cumbersome and overrated.” He sighed. “Although not without some side benefits, but I didn’t _want_ that. I still don’t, which brings me back to my conundrum. I can’t stay stood on second base for the rest of my life. The detective hardly has that type of time frame.” He picked at his lapel again. “Honestly, doctor, would that you’d warned me that epiphanies come with such high prices.”

“Working through eons of self-hatred is especially thorny, I grant that.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, quite.”

“And none of us quite anticipated how angels---”

“ _Not_ an angel.”

“Ahem, Celestials and former Celestials operate,” she corrected. “We can keep working on your self-hatred as we have, but I think I’d also like to talk more about your trust issues as well. I can’t begin to imagine the levels of abandonment, and I know Chloe going to Rome on top of that somehow probably feels worse to you. However, I think that you may still be underestimating her. You may also be underestimating yourself.”

“I don’t think I follow.”

“Chloe loves you, no matter what your subconscious does.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t _know_ it for sure, and that’s what makes this so bloody difficult.” He said, and she winced as he grabbed the arm of the sofa more tightly. If he broke it, Lucifer was replacing it, just like the wall.

“Because you can’t elicit her desires?”

“Yes, but also because I had so much time to think in Hell…too much time.” He shook his head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Everything with Kinley was so exquisitely painful, and I can’t help vacillating between worrying she’ll run again and that she just…that I can’t be enough for her as I am. Whatever that currently is.”

Linda sighed and set her pad down. “It’s past the hour so I’m off-the-clock, and I’m going to talk to you as a friend and a sister-in-law, kind of, and not a therapist.”

“So, this part is free, is it?”

“You owe me infinity times for all the ‘not that kind of doctor’ heroics I keep having to do for you guys.”

“Quite,” Lucifer said, sliding across the sofa as she sat down beside him. “What is your advice then, Linda?”

“Take it at the pace you need, and even if you don’t believe in yourself or trust quite enough in Chloe yet, then _trust_ me. She doesn’t want someone else, and you are enough.”

He sighed and stood, cramming more Jolly Ranchers into his fist. “I do hope that’s true, doctor, because it would be for the first time.”

**

Lucifer’s leg was twitching. It was unfair to say that he couldn’t pay attention. He could, but what he focused on had to interest him. He could spend hours entertaining bed partners for example and most definitely had over his years of sojourns to earth. Also, if a show struck him as interesting (see the very excellent _Bones_ ), Lucifer could marathon it and remember details about it like no one’s business.

Bloody paperwork did _nothing_ for him.

It did even less for him late into third shift after he and the Detective had solved a double homicide in Korea Town and, yet, his dear detective had deemed the paperwork crucial to finish at two a.m. It would have held until the morning. He had _far better_ ideas of how to spend their time, especially with Beatrice had a friend’s house for the night for a sleepover. So, yes, if he was jittery whilst sitting at the commissary table, and alright, helping himself to a second cup of Daniel’s pudding, could one truly blame him. He’d had plans, Dad damn it.

Speaking of the pain in his backside, Daniel, who’d also been stuck on third shift this weekend for a stakeout that had been a bust, stalked into the break room and glared at him. “Man, are you kidding me? I only have two of those?”

“What happened to share and share alike?”

“Not in the mood man. I already have my partner on my ass for a bad lead over in the warehouse district, a crink in my neck from wasted eight hours in a car, and I do _not_ have any energy leftover to deal with your bullshit.”

“My bullshit?” Lucifer asked, affronted. “I was merely staving off hunger,” not that he technically could feel it, “as I waited for the detective to finish the paperwork for us.”

“You could help, and damn it! That was the second pudding, wasn’t it?” Dan asked as he opened the refrigerator and then stared daggers back at him. “I just…I swear that’s it.”

Lucifer stood and offered him the half of pudding left. “There’s still some in the bottom. Would that appease? I wasn’t sure if you were the type to tolerate sloppy seconds.”

“Go to Hell, man.”  
  


The humor drained from Lucifer and he clenched his jaw more tightly. “Been there, not planning on going back, at least not until _I_ feel like it and trade back off with a couple siblings for the duty.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t even care anymore. I shouldn’t, but for some impossible reason, Chloe and Trixie do care. They were wrecked when you were off ‘doing errands’ or whatever it was for your father. You were just gone. Total ghosting situation, and it tore them both up.”

“Yes, well, subduing demon hordes is rather unavoidable,” Lucifer replied, tone clipped.

Daniel threw his hands up in the air. “Do you even hear yourself. At first, I thought you were crazy. Then, I thought you were a rich asshole addicted to the schtick because you got away with it, even in the precinct.”

“And now?”

“Oh, you’re still a rich asshole, but I’ve circled back to thinking you have some serious delusions. I like Linda. She helped me a lot to deal with Charlotte’s death, finally, but have you thought maybe you need something more intensive? I’m not trying to be a dick here.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, but I’ve accepted that for whatever reason, my family is set on having you around. It’s annoying, but it is what it is.”

“I have many redeeming qualities.”

“Stability is not one of them,” Daniel bit back.

He’d recently skinned demons alive for saying far less to him.

“How dare you!”

“It’s true. I know you’ll just leave again. It’s what you do, but if you have even a chance of sticking around, you need to seriously get over this Devil bullshit. Dude, I went to mass a lot. I mean, still do at Christmas and Easter or if I’m visiting my parents over the weekend. I get it. That’s a long shadow, and I’m guessing probably your dad runs some kind of cult-Waco thing, which must suck for you. Okay? I’m trying to get it. But Hell’s not actually real. And you’re not Satan. What you are is someone that no matter how hard I try, Chloe and Trixie care a lot about, so get it together.”

“All this over some gelatinous goo?”

“No, that’s just the final straw on the camel’s back. I’m saying this because it’s been years, man, and a while since you got back from wherever you fucked off to. Just…let it go.”

Lucifer let out a long breath and kept his fists clenched at his side. Would that he could give all the Devil “shtick” up. While Hell wasn’t his territory currently (gratitude to his sibling Duma for that), Lucifer could never escape its shadow. He would _never_ escape what all of it had done to him. Besides, Linda was an excellent therapist; he just had eons of issues, quite literally, to sift through.

It was then that the Detective stalked through the doors, her expression dark. “It’s almost three a.m., I just filed the final bit of paperwork, and I’m in zero mood for the newest installment in the eternal Dan-and-Lucifer pissing contest.”

“He started it!” They both echoed, pointing at each other.

The detective shook her head. “Dan, we’ve talked about this more than once. I appreciate you’re concerned about Trixie’s feelings and mine, but we’re okay. Lucifer’s not going anywhere again; he promised.”

Daniel scowled, a rather unflattering look on him if Lucifer were honest. “Yeah, seen him promise that before.”

“I promise you, there is literally no force on earth that could pull me away from either the Detective or the urchin.”

“Not exactly what I’d love to hear,” Daniel griped.

The detective shook her head. “You two give it a rest for tonight. We’re all tired, and our respective plans didn’t work out, okay? Besides,” she added, narrowing her eyes at him. “Lucifer, you really should stop eating his pudding. You don’t even like _Pudding Plus_ anymore.”

“Well, once they took out that additive it wasn’t the same,” Lucifer conceded.

Daniel rolled his eyes. “So, you’d prefer the kidney cancer?”

“I’m the Devil,” he said, adding extra emphasis on the word. “I can’t get cancer.”

The other man’s shoulder deflated, and he looked mournfully at the detective. “Really, Chlo?”

“Dan, not tonight. I’m just…we’ve talked about it. Why don’t you go home? Diaz is going to be a pain tomorrow anyway about the stakeout tip being a disaster. Unless you just want to add a long overdue talk with me to the pile now?”

The douche’s expression became even more pinched. “Fine, but you know how I feel.” He turned his attention back to Lucifer. “Man, seriously, you’re _not_ the Devil. Get some more help.”

With that, gratefully, the douche was out of the door.

Lucifer still had his hands clenched tightly at his side, deeply enough that he felt his nails bite into his palms. “It’s nice to know that some things never bloody change around here. After all that time below, paperwork is still dreadfully dull, and Daniel is still the world’s largest douche.”

The detective crossed the room and set a soft hand on his cheek. “First, he means well. He just doesn’t understand.”

“I could show him everything, and he’s too thick to _ever_ understand,” Lucifer countered.

She stroked his cheek and sighed up at him, blue eyes wide and a bit troubled. “It was hard on all of us while you were gone. Dan just wants to mostly protect Trixie. He’s scared you’ll go away again. We know you won’t, that it’s covered, but Dan’s going to take time to come around.”

“He’s been so full of the milk of human kindness so far,” he grumbled.

She shook her head and kissed him delicately on the lips. Lucifer felt most of the tension ease from him, relaxing his palms and letting his fingers go loose. When she pulled away, there was quite the enigmatic smile on her face.

“Look, I know that we were planning for a big night tonight or at least the kind that it’s best for just the two of us around my apartment.”

“Yes, quite.”

“I know the break in the case and wrapping it up weren’t what you wanted,” she continued, her voice hitting a lower register that made a smile spring to his face and him painfully hard. She had that way with him. “However, I thought maybe you’d like to go down to the evidence lock up with me.”

“Whatever for?”  
  


She grinned and licked her lips. Standing up on her toes, the detective leaned up and whispered in his ear. “I think you can imagine there are some quiet places down there.” With that, she gave him a playful slap on the backside, much like during their ill-fate poisoning case. “Would you like to visit with me?”

“Detective, what has gotten into you?”

“It’s been a long night. Everyone’s feeling frustrated, and honestly, I can be spontaneous once in a while.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Is it also because we’re almost the last two people around on this ghost shift?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, her grin still wide. “I can be daring…but more in small doses.”

Lucifer chuckled, thinking a bit on their somewhat flawed Valentine’s Day. His detective was far more daring and far more willing to put up with things she really shouldn’t than even Chloe would be able to admit to.

Offering her a smirk, he nodded and gestured to the door. “Lead away then, darling. I’ll follow you anywhere.”  
**

The evidence lock-up wasn’t exactly full of ambiance. It was more like a rabbit warren with its endless rows of shelves and overcrowded drawers. Seized drugs lay everywhere, which, honestly _tempting_. Then there were the caches of seized weapons and the truly odd stuff. Illegally traded jewelry and goods. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but he was intrigued with his detective’s desire to do something bold. (By her standards, of course. Public sex had been in his repertoire since Rome. The Devil was _not_ scared of being caught.)

Still, even among the myriad of illegal property, they were able to find a wall that was relatively uncluttered. One that he was more than happy to lean against and wait for his detective’s lead. He sprawled out against the wall, long legs crossed out in front of him, and he licked his bottom lip. Lucifer knew the effect that bit of challenge in his posture had on her by now.

“Well, Detective,” he purred. “You have me at your leisure. What is it you _desire_?”

She beamed back at him, her eyes sparkling with intensity. And hunger. “I think you can guess.” The detective wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “And…” she paused, quirking her head to the left. “Is it cold in here to you?”

He frowned. “No, but I don’t tend to notice temperatures much, hazards of spending most of my life that in some spots is inhumanly hot. Fiery pit of despair…everything else seems rather cool by comparison.”

“I…huh…maybe someone’s been fooling with the thermostat around here,” she said.

  
Then, they both frowned down at her mouth when her breath came out as a visible fog in the air. What in Dad’s name was even going on? Lucifer frowned and studied her more closely, at the way she was shivering just a bit and the hair standing up on end on the back of her neck. The goosebumps too.

“Chloe?” he asked, reaching out and running a hand over her cheek.

She shuddered and he dropped his hand immediately. It was instinctive, that, brought back memories of a bridge long ago and her recoiling from his hand on her shoulder. But it had been too long since that. Chloe couldn’t…she wouldn’t now, would she?

“Detective?” he asked again, standing back enough to give her space, trying to hide his insecurities by adjusting his lapels, as if they were anything but perfect.

“It’s just so cold…I… _you’re_ cold.”

He frowned. “That’s not…if anything, I tend to run a bit warm.”

“No, you’re freezing. Are you okay?” She frowned and reached up to touch his forehead. “I…wow, it’s like sticking my palm against a block of ice.”

Lucifer frowned and touched his forehead, sticking his palm flat over her own. Now that she’d mentioned it, he could actually focus on the temperature difference, and she’d been right. He was cold as the darkest pits of his former realm. (He had been literal when he’d told the detective once that he could arrange for Hell to freeze over.)

This, of course, had never happened before.

Then again, until the Valentine’s Day’s debacle, he hadn’t been quite so _endowed_ either.

“Oh, Detective, I apologize,” he said, starting to pace. “I rather think this is another hiccup.”

She studied him then, her mind seeming to tease the facts out like she did when on a case. “Oh. I dind’t know---”

“Apparently, my subconscious enjoys pulling out all the stops. I suppose I was already self-conscious enough after my fight with Daniel. I am many things, but delusional is hardly one of them. Somedays, would that I were. It would make things far less complicated.”

She smiled up at him and placed her hand on his shirt sleeve. “I like complicated.”

Lucifer felt a bit better at that. “Yes, you’ve done simple before with Detective Douche, if memory serves.”

“He’s not all bad. It was a hard time when you were away.”

“It was,” he agreed. “Detective, let me get you home and then get you under a blanket or eight. I’m quite sorry I’m apparently a walking disaster area currently.”

“Just a bit cold,” she said. Then, she bit her lower lip and nodded up at him. “I believe that I promised to come down here and enjoy some time with you.”

“Detective…Chloe…really, you’ve nothing to prove, especially after Valentine’s Day.”

“And it’s not about proving things, Lucifer.” She replied, her tone a bit strained. “First, you respect free will and choice and all that, right?”

“Of course.”

“I _choose_ to be here. I _want_ to be here,” she continued. “Also, you’re not the only one who’s had a long night and wants to get some energy out.”

The chill was forgotten a bit as he smirked again at her. “Are you now?”

She nodded. “I’m here for whatever ride there is, Lucifer. So, let’s see how we work around this particular quirk.” The detective thought better of it for a moment and frowned at him. “Wait, is this a devil thing too? One of those rumors from Puritans?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps it was ill-advised to read my own press over the years.” She chuckled. “It’s not funny, you minx.”

“No, I just…” she giggled again. “I keep thinking about all the old pilgrims or whatever and all the stuff they had to be writing down at the Witch Trials. It’s pretty insane.”

“Yes, quite,” he said, taking a breath. “Until now, at least, it was also only libelous insinuations.” He gave a self-deprecating sigh. “I don’t deserve you, you know?”

She shook her head. “I think after everything we’ve been through, we’re lucky to have each other.” Then, she quirked her head at him. “I’m trying to…I think there are certain things we can’t do because, I love you, but I cannot deal with frostbite.”

“Detective,” he said, bringing his left hand to his chest in affront. “I’d never.”

“No, but I think I have an idea, if you’re still up for something fun?”

“Chloe…” he nodded and acquiesced. The good doctor had said he’d have to keep working on trusting in the detective, hadn’t she? He couldn’t do that if he didn’t start trying, even if this was an odd amalgamation, even for him. “Of course, love, always up for anything with you. What do you have in your devious little mind?”

She grinned and reached for his pocket square. “I might need to borrow this, if that’s okay.”  
  


“It _is_ Prada,” he objected for a moment. However, he had more than one scarlet pocket square. More than a hundred of them, truth be told, and he was honestly curious at this point to learn what his detective was planning. “But if you must, then certain sacrifices must be made.”

The detective nodded and slipped it from his breast pocket. Then she blushed, some of her confidence from earlier seeming to leave her. “Forgive me, but I don’t want to freeze, and I don’t exactly have gloves.”

Lucifer arched an eyebrow, suddenly _very_ interested in where all of this was going. “Well, it is a silk pocket square, should feel rather lovely.”

“Good, I just…sorry I can’t....” she trailed off, even as she leaned down and unzipped him. “Next time, hopefully I can touch directly.”

“Take all the precautions you need,” he said, winking at her. “I suppose that would be a true statement, no matter what permutation of sex we were having.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t sound so clinical, Lucifer. It’s just…trial and error.”

“I hardly stand for that.”

“Don’t worry. It might be a little bit of a let down, really, if it was the other way around. I mean, if you’re dating the Devil,” she said, as she undid his belt as well. “then you would expect things to, well, be unconventional.”

Lucifer studied her more intensely, his own self-consciousness forgotten. Some half-remembered conversations with Mazikeen sprung to mind. Years ago, the demon had insinuated that Chloe had a few interesting kinks of her own, based on the detective shouting in her sleep. He’d assumed Maze had been teasing. She couldn’t have been serious.

Could she?

As the detective slid his pants down to the floor---and he wouldn’t complain about the dust on the designer threads, at least this time---Lucifer studied her. That enigmatic smile was still on her face, but he could see the hint of pink coloring her ears and her cheeks. His detective was being game, but somehow, those small tells were comforting. She was as nervous about exploring things between them as he was. But what had she said? _Trial and error_? Yes, they’d just have to muddle through it together.

Lucifer just regretted that he couldn’t reach out and touch. He wasn’t sure exactly _how_ cold his hands were at the moment, and he didn’t want to hurt her. Currently, he had better odds of doing no harm if he kept his palms flat against the concrete wall behind him.

The detective set the red pocket square flat against her right palm and then wrapped her hand around his cock. Lucifer shuddered at the first hint of her touch, at the silky fabric wrapped around his shaft. Looking down, he watched, cock hardening further as his detective started to pump around him in earnest. Her hair was tied up tightly in her custom ponytail, but a few stray bits of golden bangs had escaped their prison and fanned out beside her cheeks. Her mouth was closed tight, her teeth clenched over bottom lip, and her face as full of concentration and determination as it was whenever she poured over crime scene evidence.

She was so very determined to figure this out.

When she had to know that any time---any way---that she touched him was a truly divine gift. There wasn’t a cheat code, so to speak, or a special way to touch him. Just being near Chloe Decker, for lack of a cheesier phrase, as far as he was concerned was divine.

Alright, somewhat literally, considering her miraculous nature.

She had started with a slow tempo, her right hand working over his length, even as her other hand clenched to his side, burying itself in the safety of his shirt over his torso. He moaned a bit and threw his head back, even as he felt her fingers press into his side, guarded by the shirt fabric around them, even as her hand moved ever faster over his cock.

Lucifer might have been cold, by human standards at least currently, but he felt mostly normal. The faster Chloe moved, especially as she hummed a bit with her own determination, the more aroused her was. It didn’t take much, never with her. The sight of her golden hair, the softness of the silk and the exquisite skill of her fingers against him, the smell of her perfume, pedestrian, yes, but threaded through with lilacs and freesia. It was all pushing him closer to the edge. Even the stiff and unyielding reality of the evidence locker’s concrete wall under his back, Lucifer felt as if there was nowhere he’d rather be in this moment.

In any moment.

And he should know. He’d been to a couple so-called paradises in his long life, but they’d lacked Chloe Decker, hadn’t they?

She was frantic then, a tempo that was fast and almost punishing and he bucked his hips, desperate for a release. The detective bit her lip a bit tighter and reached out with her other hand towards his balls and stroked lightly against them, clearly trying to avoid the brunt of any of the frostbite or risk.

It was just the hint of tickling he needed.

Lucifer moaned and came then. He couldn’t quite keep himself from shouting; it felt too damn good to tamp himself down like this. When he was spent, he sagged for a bit against the wall, even Celestials could be truly drained by a good orgasm after all. He didn’t open his eyes again until he heard the detective giggling.

He opened one eyelid lackadaisically. “What’s so funny?”

She sighed and nodded to the floor. “It looks like it snowed.”

Frowning, Lucifer opened his other and stared at the floor between their feet. She wasn’t exactly wrong; a fine sheet of frost was littering the floor between them. “Bloody hell.”

“Well, let me see what I can get to clean that up. Not glamorous, but it’s probably not a good idea to leave, well, mystically endowed semen around an area that’s regularly swept through.”  
  


Lucifer snorted as he did back up his pants and belt. “Let it never be said you can’t put a fine point on things, Detective.” He frowned down at her. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nodded and held up her right hand. “Totally fine. I mean, uh, I used to play in the snow when Mom would shoot in Vancouver and stuff when I was a kid. I have been exposed to the cold before, but the pocket square was perfect.”

Lucifer looked away, and then groaned and rolled his eyes skyward. _Fuck you too, Dad, and self-actualization_. Seeing the frosty remains of his orgasm wasn’t actually an ego booster either, currently.

“I’m sorry that---”

“Don’t be,” she said. “I wanted to get you to relax after our date fell through and you and Dan had a fight. I did. Besides, I mean, I don’t get a chance to make it snow all the time, do I?”

“Oh Detective, we really need to get you more exciting goals.”

She turned around and leaned up to kiss him. “I think I’ve got enough excitement for now.”

**

They had switched their appointments on _this_ topic to Linda’s home. Lucifer could understand that. His therapist-slash-sister-in-lawish clearly felt she needed a kip of alcohol to cope. Lucifer couldn’t blame her. He’d forgone his flask and just brought with him a generous bottle of Macallan Scotch to share between them.

Dr. Linda’s office was the appropriate setting for talking about his frustration with the douche, or his consternation with more parental (or step-devilish) duties with Trixie, or even for his usual confusion on cases where, alright, he _still_ projected too much. However, it was ill-suited for discussions of, to put it generously, eldritch sex.

Linda was currently leaning back at her kitchen table and draining her first shot of Scotch. “Huh, well, that’s…” she reached over and did that thing he’d noticed her doing before with Charlie. Once the infant had sneezed while he’d actually been holding him. The horror. Linda had swept the Nephilim up in her arms and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It was supposed to augur something. She was doing the same now to his own forehead. “You feel normal now.”

“Yes, well, outside of _intimate_ situations, things tend to return to my Devilish levels of normal. It’s when I’m with the detective that things tend to go pear-shaped.”

“But cold, well, huh?”

  
“It was not a trick I’d suggest Amenadiel try, a bit overrated that. Although there are cold dildos and other things. Silicone based of course, don’t stick anything of actual ice up there, quite dangerous.”

Linda pursed her lips and poured another shot. “I did go to medical school eons ago. I had a rotation in OB/GYN and one in emergency. I’ve seen enough to know that some directions are meant to be followed and that some ideas are terrible.”

“Do tell?” he said, leaning forward, curious about someone else’s sexual misfortunes.

“Someone once tried to make a homemade vibrator but managed to electrocute themselves. It traumatized the shit out of third-year medical student me.” She shrugged. “See, you don’t need to be Celestial to have sexual hiccups, Lucifer.”

“Mine are a bit more dramatic than that.”  
  


“But,” she continued, a blush coloring her cheeks. “you both enjoyed yourselves, didn’t you?”

“Why, yes, to be honest. If anything, the detective seemed more amused than anything else. I think it honestly made her happy to make me happy. Imagine that,” he muttered to himself.

“And you find it hard.”

“Of course.”  
  


“No, I meant,” Linda continued. “you find it hard to accept that someone would want to do what you _desire_ in return, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I never questioned why each of us, back long ago, had our powers. As we established, there is no Heavenly Hogwarts.”

Linda smiled genuinely there. “Poor Charlie will be so disappointed he’s not getting an owl on his eleventh birthday.”

“Yes, that,” he said. Due to sometimes reading at night to Trixie before bed, he was familiar with children’s books now. She’d read them already before, but he was charged with reading them aloud to her at night, despite her growing age, before bed because he “already had the accent anyway.” “Still, I never thought much about it. It suited me, to be able to ferret out desires and serve them. I _like_ pleasing people as you’ll well remember.”

Linda shook her head and gave a warning call of his name, “Lucifer.”

“Yes, well. I suppose in all of that, I never thought much about being pleased in return. I like when my lovers are happy. It’s what makes me satisfied in return. I suppose, even with the monstrous nature of the whole interaction this weekend, well, it was novel to realize that Chloe feels the same way about me.”

The good doctor nodded. “That’s good, Lucifer. It’s a good step.”

“I don’t understand?”

“Part of learning to trust Chloe, despite your own fears---which we know are justified from your history of familial rejection---is that you need to understand that other people want to just be with you, be your friends or your family. In Chloe’s case, she wants to be your girlfriend because of genuine affection, because she wants to make you happy like you do her. Relationships, the good ones, aren’t actually transactional.”

“But I’ve traded favors before. I’ve been used to making sure my partners were satisfied even if I didn’t on paper get as much from the exchange.”

She took another sip of her Scotch. “Yes, but this is a different type of relationships. For lack of a more specific term, a _real_ one, and it might surprise you for now, but Chloe wants to give back too.”

Lucifer sighed. “And it would be easier to believe if so far I weren’t 0-for-2 with sexual exploits out of the bloody _Twilight Zone_.”

Linda smirked at him. “Perhaps more Lovecraft.”

He snorted at the joke a little. “Never heard complaints from you as the peanut gallery. I’d wager the enhanced endowment is something you’d still want to see if any Celestial could do.”

Linda narrowed her eyes at him. “This is _not_ about me.”

  
“Struck a nerve, doctor?”

“No, but you’re not going to deflect through humor, either.”

Bugger. Truly it was a hassle having a therapist who knew all his tells. Frankly, had called him on his shit from the first day onwards. What made her worth the exorbitant price tag, to be honest.

“What do you want me to say then?” he asked.

“I just want you to accept that, for now, understanding a truly intimate relationship---don’t take that as an opening.” He shut his mouth before he could offer a joke. “…that for true intimacy you have to learn both that it’s okay not to always feel you have to do the favors or you’re not enough as you are and, yes, in your case, work through more of your issues as you adjust to…well…unusual sexual situations.”

“Bloody Puritans. Would that I’d never read their lies.”

Linda, for all her collected nature, still glanced once at his lap. _Oh, she was definitely thinking about last time_. “Yes, but we’ll keep working on it. For now, I think you just have to be---”

“ _Open to the process_ ,” he said, affecting a higher pitched voice than normal and then sighing. Shaking his head, he lifted his glass to hers and clinked it together. “Well, here’s to trial and error.”

“Cheers to that.”


	2. Doublemint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lucifer actually talks Chloe into joining him in his hot tub.

**Chapter Two**

It was a testament to how agitated this whole angel self-actualization problem had Lucifer that he had deigned to meet his brother in the park in the first place. Three-piece Prada tailored to order did not deserve the horror of a park bench, one that had probably been stuck thoroughly with gum or, Dad help him, peed on by more than one spawn in its tenure. When Amenadiel had greeted him, he’d chided Lucifer for not just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Lucifer had bit back gruffly that the Devil would never.

But he’d settled quietly beside his brother as they both kept a watchful eye on the little Nephilim. Charlie was big enough to sit up and play a bit in the sand, but he wouldn’t be toddling about to run up the slide or climb up any death traps made of second-rate plastic any time soon. Just as well. If the imp’s hand so much as tried to bring the not-at-all-sanitary-sand near his mouth, then Amenadiel had a heart attack and hurried over to hand Charlie his pale and mini-shovel instead.

It was in a word: _banal_.

It was no wonder that his brother adored the rote chores associated with fatherhood. Rote duty had always been Amenadiel’s specialty. So, what if the little scamp was cute, for a tax burden? Or, alright, if there was a certain way Charlie giggled that reminded Lucifer in passing of the good doctor. That was not as important as the fact that the little monsters had to be watched twenty-four hours a day. What a nuisance. Even Hell was somewhat automated by now and covered as long as Duma kept an eye out.

Just call him when Charlie could go to a strip club. Truly.

Amenadiel cooed a bit to his offspring and then slipped onto the bench beside him after re-handing the scamp his pale yet again. “Alright, Luci, what gives?”

He brought a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Why does anything need to be up, dear Brother? I thought so manly bonding time with my nephew was in order.”

“You said to call you when he was a teenager or, better yet, in college,” Amenadiel finished.

Drat. If he wasn’t even fooling his brother, then he was doing a far poorer job of hiding his inner turmoil than he’d thought.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not. Is it trouble at home? Did you and Chloe have a fight?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

That was true. And while Lucifer trusted Linda implicitly and knew she’d never bring up the oddities of angel self-actualization---well the limits Lucifer was involuntarily testing out---with Amenadiel, he didn’t feel the need to fill his brother in on every detail. Not at all.

It was just a dull Friday. There had been no cases of note in the precinct for him to consult on, Mazikeen and Eve were out of the state on a bounty, and while he could have started drinking and a bit of other herbal pleasures early this afternoon, it hadn’t been helpful. So, fresh air, that was the ticket.

With God’s most boring angel.

“Luci, seriously, what gives?”

Oh, that tone. Once it had been pious and overbearing. Now it was pious and if not condescending then oddly hopeful. Lucifer wasn’t sure which version was better.

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “With Linda, whatever it is your two have, well, how were you sure she liked you?”

Amenadiel frowned. “We’re parents. That’s what we have.”

Lucifer very much doubted that. Maybe that’s what Amenadiel assumed they still had, but he could tell the good doctor was longing for more again. Her desires radiated off her in that arena, but that was between Linda and his idiot brother, and he tended not to meddle. Would that it would be something his other siblings believed in.

“Very well, but, alright, you were mortal when the little one was conceived.”

Amenadiel’s eyes went comically wide. “Luci!”

“It’s true!”

“Yes, but there are children here,” he hissed. “They might hear you.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Yes, quite, they’re barely able to walk. I’m sure the lot of them have no idea what that term means. It’s just…perhaps it was being mortal that took the edge off a bit.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Alright, well, did you ever think about what it might have been like to have tried to have a relationship with Linda as a full-angel. If I am to believe you two are squarely just co-parents now.”

Amenadiel sighed and glanced at Charlie, who so far, was displaying vast intelligence and hadn’t yet eaten playground sand. “I would love for Linda and me…it’s just best to stay unified as parents, that’s all. I wouldn’t want things to get too complicated and then not be allowed in her home. Charlie has many special considerations, and it’s best if I’m onsite for them. Not that separation is bad for some. It’s just the status quo at least works.”

Lucifer had the decency not to point out that “at least working” made Amenadiel sound miserable. “Alright, following, but just hypothetically. Let us presume that you and Linda had gotten amorous while you’d had your powers…honestly that would have been a benefit. Your abilities would have prolonged and orgasm indefinitely and---”

“The point?” Amenadiel replied, his voice practically a growl. Yup, there was the innate talent Lucifer had for annoying the Firstborn.

“Yes, well, I…would you feel enough even without your powers involved?”

“But they weren’t.”  
  


“Yes, but we’re trying a thought experiment. Would you ever have worried that Linda was only into you for the fluffy wings or the angelic powers?”

Amenadiel shook his head. “Luci, Luci, Luci. How could you even doubt that Chloe cares about you after everything you’ve been through? She waited for you to get back from Hell. I think it’s safe to say it’s not the wings or anything else that make her like you. Sometimes, love just is.”

“Like when the shrewdest psychiatrist in Los Angeles falls for Heaven’s dullest angel?”

“I am _not_ as boring as Castiel. Second, I wish that were true.” He stood up and scooped Charlie up in his arms and then sat back down on the bench. Lucifer slid back a bit to avoid the chance of any spittle ending up on his suit. “Like I said, we just do parent things. And we’re friends. Good friends.”

Lucifer studied him but decided not to press the issue. They were here to help solve his problems after all. “It was just a thought, a passing fancy really.”

“Obviously, it’s weighing on you, or you’d have waited for some night I popped by Lux to bring it up.”

He sighed and leaned back on the bench. “I love the detective, and she’s more than proven not only her loyalty but her resilience with me. I can’t even…it hurts how she ran off to Rome. It will always hurt, but I put telling her off far too long, and it’s quite the shock. After everything, I feel damn lucky she’s around. I just sometimes worry that now, maybe, it could be the wrong part of me she was waiting for all this time.”

His brother frowned, an expression that made Amenadiel look vaguely constipated, much as he denied it. “I don’t think I understand.”

Lucifer looked down at the grass and shrugged, as if that simple motion would free the tension that had been plaguing him since Valentine’s Day. “It’s hard to explain, and I do understand that you’d try to help but some of it is…well it would tell rather too much about the detective, and I wouldn’t want to in mixed company.”

“Lucifer, I don’t know what exactly is going on, but as someone who watched how hard your absence was on Chloe up close, I can promise you, she loves you. Not because of the Celestial side or despite it but because she understands that it’s a part of the entire package.”

“Yes,” Lucifer muttered, not completely convinced.

Amenadiel clapped one hand on the back of his shoulder. Lucifer was too morose to moan about the wrinkled Prada even. “Brother, for all our many ups and downs, we’re probably two of the luckiest Celestials out there. Definitely the two luckiest on earth. I…for right now, I don’t have everything I want, but far more than I dreamed of with Charlie and Linda…and you finally have all the time you could ask for with Chloe. This is the good part. Stop borrowing trouble. Honestly, that’s some rogue demon or priest or annoying younger Host’s job.”

“Alas, now that is the truth.”

**

He wasn’t even sure if taking his brother’s advice was a good idea. Granted, it wasn’t very different from Linda’s. It wasn’t even different from Chloe, who had sworn and showed him twice already that she was more than willing to go on this strange---beyond strange, more Lovecraftian really---journey with him. And yet, millennia of rejection were hard to counteract. Everyone else he’d ever dealt with, mostly his family and always Father, had rejected him soundly.

Lucifer just didn’t want Chloe to do the same, and he couldn’t help but worry that somehow she’d get such a taste for the monstrous side, so that whatever about him that was normal (though _exceptional_ , naturally) would no longer suffice.

However, he was trying in good faith to shove these worries into a tiny corner of his mind and enjoy a relaxing evening at the penthouse with the detective in question. It was probably a sign of how worried she was about him that they were spending their night in the hot tub. He'd foregone swimwear because whatever was the bloody point of that? She’d donned a bikini that showed off her assets spectacularly.

It was always funny, that.

Over the years in Los Angeles, he’d had every type of model in his whirlpool, and they’d worn either nothing or thong bikinis so tiny they’d never be approved at a public beach. But with Chloe wearing a cobalt and turquoise polka dotted two-piece with a tank-style top, well, he was swooning harder for her than he had even the first time he’d seen her in _Hot Tub High School_.

Also, he was just in general hard for her.

She grinned at him and sipped her water. The detective was still very rules-focused, as always. She was, at her heart, still the woman with all the sensible brown shoes in southern California. While the detective had joined him with a few drinks at his bar before slipping to the balcony, she’d insisted on sipping water outside to stay hydrated. At least, he didn’t have to worry about that dilemma as the Devil. He was happily sipping on some Scotch on his end of the whirlpool.

“This is nice,” she said, her foot reaching out under the bubbles to tease its way up his shin.

Lucifer hissed a little at the sweet, little torment of her toes grazing over him. He thought about _all the things_ he wanted to do to her and soon. “Yes, but I confess I’m both honored and surprised that you staged a repeat performance of your most famous role just for yours truly.”

The detective sat up and reaching over, slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t even bring it up.”

He arched an eyebrow back at her. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

At least Lucifer hoped that was why. If she’d suggested the hot tub to counteract the potential chance he’d go frigid as ice, then he could understand that, but it would be a damper on his amorous mood.

The detective sighed. “I’ve avoided these things like the plague, you know. Back even when Dan and I had our first anniversary because we did the courthouse thing and not a real honeymoon. I was still a rookie and had too much work to travel during the actual one.”

“Yes, please talk about the Douche on our date as that will help.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Anyway, for the first anniversary, we could afford a few days at this nice place down in San Diego, and the highlight was the pool and he wanted to just hang out in the hot tub. It was in public and not _anything_ like I know you’re dreaming about with us here.”

“Caught,” he chirped back.

“I couldn’t. I was so scared that someone would see and remember somehow. That dumb movie has haunted me for the better part of twenty years, you know?”

“Well, I assure you, Detective, that it was a worthy performance, and that no one else is here. I shall keep mum on the subject of you in hot tubs. I promise.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but it’s for you, and I know you really do love that stupid movie. At first, when you were just that skeevy night club owner to me, I figured it was because you were just…yeah, things I don’t want to dwell on.”

He smirked at her but neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions. Even the Devil could have some secrets after all.

“But then I also realized you’re like an eternal teenager because when the dumb thing comes on cable and is edited down, then you and Trixie laugh non-stop and the cake vomit scene.”

“Yes, like I said a classic of cinema.”

“I honestly can’t believe you still think…it’s been a long time, and there was Trixie in between and…” she gestured haphazardly to her tank top. “It wouldn’t be a great re-enactment. You’d probably be disappointed.”

Lucifer slid across the expanse of the tub and stroked the detective’s face, his long fingers taking extra time over her beauty mark and then slipping down her throat until he reached her clavicle. He paused just long enough to smirk at her, to _tempt_ her as he had in the past. It was his job after all. “You, Chloe, could never be anything short of spectacular.”

“I…”

He brought both hands to her breasts and kneaded them gently. Leaning down, he kissed her, his tongue stroking hers, promising her everything he’d not quite managed to offer her yet, even as he let her feel his interest, his erection pressing against her left thigh. Lithe fingers trailed over the peaks of her nipples through the soaked fabric of her suit, and Chloe mewled against him a little, making sounds he’d only been able to dream of in Hell.

Lucifer broke away from her and smirked. “Detective, you know you’d like to give me a show, don’t you?”  
  


“What?” she gasped out even as he ground against her. “Are you asking me ‘what I desire?’”

“I’m telling you what I’d like, darling,” he said, cupping her right breast even as his forefinger flicked with practiced expertise over her hardened peaks. “Would you? No one but the two of us would ever know.”

He knew when he’d won, when she gave him that smile that was just for him, the one layered with perfect trust and a little bit of lust. Lucifer slid back to his side of the hot tub and licked his lips as he anticipated the show. After all, he’d always been a fan of quality films.

The detective stood and with a practiced movement, tossed her hair over her shoulder. Water sluiced across the whirlpool and sprinkled on his face. She grinned back at him, even if he could discern a hint of nervousness from the slight rigidity of her posture.

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to its lowest normal register. Nothing hellish in it, just rapacious.

Chloe reached down and grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it inch by teasing, inhumane inch up her torso. And she could worry all she wanted about the stretch marks there from Trixie, but they were as beautiful to him as the rest of her. Perhaps, like the scar on her shoulder from that turd Jimmy Barnes, they were the most impressive parts of her. The marks that said she’d survived, that she was still here and as determined and valiant as she’d ever been.

The detective hesitated over drawing the tank any higher, giving him too long of a pause before revealing her most worthy and delectable breasts. They’d felt so lovely, all oddities aside, sweeping up and over his body, so very soft to touch and trace his tongue over. He wanted to do so much more to her now that he didn’t have the bloody nuisance of preternaturally sharpened nails.

“You’re teasing the Devil, detective. You know that’s dangerous territory, don’t you?” A splash of water from where she kicked out struck him, and he let his eyes flash red just a bit. “I’m a king, I’ll have you know.”

“You were. You abdicated, so I’ll take my sweet time,” she said. Then, to his gratification, his detective pulled off her tank and flung it wide to land on one of the chaise lounges. “So, am I still better than Phoebe Cates?”

Lucifer was painfully hard then, and he’d rarely felt that way before. Mostly because he’d been the type to be able to fulfill desires anytime he’d wanted back in his early forays into hedonism in L.A. And even if they hadn’t been compatible any other way really, Eve had been raring to go any time Big Ben was striking. But with Chloe, everything felt so chaste…and that was his fault, but suddenly he had never wanted anyone more in his life.

His blood was rushing down directly to his cock and, honestly, it was probably because of the miraculous effect she had on him that he felt a bit dizzy.

How utterly foreign to him.

“Lucifer?” she asked, biting her lower lip and leaning a bit forward, her breasts still spectacular, somehow even better than the first time he’d seen that blessed film. Of course, there was always something to be said for the genuine article in the flesh as opposed to merely captured on celluloid.

He licked his lips wolfishly. “Who again, love? You’re gorgeous, and I believe I’ll be ravishing you now.”

Lucifer stood and started toward her but stilled halfway across the hot tub. The detective’s eyes had gone comically wide again, and he knew the look. But that…it didn’t make sense. Last time, he’d barely been able to walk when _that_ endowment had sprung up.

“Detective?” he asked.

She swallowed hard and gestured down toward where his hips crested over the water. “I…wow.”

Her face and down her neck were scarlet, and Lucifer figured something from his bloody subconscious had let loose again. When didn’t it? Sighing, he gazed down and even his eyes bulged at the sight that greeted.

At _both_ the dicks greeting him.

**

Chloe blinked again and let her brain try not to stutter to a standstill. This wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as essentially a third leg, albeit it was as surprising. Where Lucifer had one member before, long and uncut and tempting---and he’d shown off more than once for her because of course he had---now he had two, as if the original had pronged outwards to the side with a matching twin.

“Whoa.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched and a corded muscle in his throat twitched as well. He hadn’t gotten upset, hadn't shouted. She was worried he was only a few minutes away from a self-loathing diatribe. He was understandably sensitive about what was happening to him, about what his own mind and this awful angel loophole could do. Honestly, why had God even made it so angels could punish themselves so thoroughly? It was cruel.

Chloe unglued her brain and shoved the corner of it telling her what she could do---all the fun things _he_ could do for her---deep down. Crossing to the center of the hot tub before he could leave, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and braced her body against his, flush as she could get it, until _both_ of his lengths, hard as steel, were tight against her belly.

Height differences and all that.

“So, is this another Puritan thing?” she asked, hoping that humor would help keep him calm.

She was no longer really shocked by what Lucifer could do, as much as momentarily overwhelmed by the changing kaleidoscope of possibilities. Once, he’d scared her badly, and she’d rabbited to Rome like a fool. The first time, she’d fumbled through the sex and enjoyed it but hoped she hadn’t been too awkward with him or seemed upset. Honestly, she’d been mostly scared the first time she’d hurt him, that her stupid miracleness and over-eager caressing of an impromptu third leg might accidentally tweak something on him.

But this?

Okay, they’d done super long. _Rideable_ , basically. They’d had cold and a definitely _not_ child-friendly snow.

This, she could do this.

The aching throb between her legs told Chloe she was more than eager to try in point of fact, but she had to make sure it was what Lucifer wanted. If he merely felt like covering himself as best he could (a feat for a man who was unlikely to own sweatpants) and sit quietly in the loft, she’d do that. But she’d also promised, and, okay like _really_ …it would be okay if he wanted to try more, too.

“Hey,” she said, her tone gentle. “I was just teasing. Whatever you want, okay? You know I’m up for anything.”

He grimaced at her turn of phrase. “Apparently, Detective, I’m up for everything in stereo.” Lucifer glanced away, trying not to focus on her eyes. She knew how bothered he was then. Lucifer had always been the type to focus with unerring intensity on everyone. He rarely blinked. “I’m sorry for this.”

She kissed him and set her cheek on his chest. “I’m not. It’s just adjustments until your subconscious is relaxed. Look, let’s make a deal.”

“I’m in no mood for deals; I’m afraid.”

She stroked his cheek again, letting her hand graze across the stubble there. “I _am_. This is just a process. We navigate it, go through everything that happens together, and one day your mind won’t play tricks on you. You get upset or assume I don’t want to be here, then you just prolong your own agony.” Chloe reached low to emphasize her point, her hand not large enough to stroke both but her fingers were able to spread wide and tickle each shaft just a bit, a hint of what she’d give him if he were willing. “I love you. I’ll say it and show it and do whatever it takes for you to get that, deep, deep down. Lucifer, I’m not running.” She blushed. “Honestly, I’ve really enjoyed the last two times, you know?”

He stilled for a bit then, and she couldn’t quite interpret the range of emotions playing over his face. What could she have possibly said that was wrong?

“Is it what you desire, Detective?”

She kissed him again and brought her hand back up to his shoulder. “I want you to feel loved. How can I do that?”

“I…you shouldn’t have to…I…” he fumbled.

“But there’s a lot of fun we can have, right? Eventually, your subconscious will get its shit together. Until then, I _promise_ you, I’m fine. I’m still here, and I’m not going to break. I’m enjoying myself, and I think you are too. Or will be soon. So, again, we can Netflix and legit just watch movies, or we can do more. It’s all what you’d like.”

He sighed and kissed her, his lips soft and gentle against her own. Lucifer pulled back, and she’d seen that same besotted look on more than one balcony in her life. “Chloe, what on Dad’s green earth did I ever do to deserve you?”

“I think we just kind of earned each other. Partners, right?”

Lucifer gave a tight nod. “Indeed. Then, my adventurous detective, I’d much rather explore this latest complication if you’re willing?”

She let her other hand drift low and stroked the length closest to it, rewarded a bit when a strangled sound that Lucifer was totally going to deny later was a purr escaped his throat.

“Definitely,” Chloe replied.

She grinned up at him with more confidence than she usually felt in these situations.

Not that she was a blushing virgin. Trixie was more than proof of that, and she’d had her share of boyfriends before Dan. Chloe had even had a few wild flings, though nothing that ever spread to the paparazzi, and especially during those heady days filming _Hot Tub High School_ , when she’d been just young and naïve enough to believe it would make her a real star. Oh, how gullible she’d been. However, just making out with Lucifer, well, before the self-actualization issues started, tended to make her nervous. It was one thing to be experienced for the average forty-year-old. Maybe a bit more with things here and there from early in her marriage, but that couldn’t compare to the Devil, who had literally been everywhere, done mostly everything, and, to be perfectly blunt, had also done it with probably every conceivable number of people and in all positions.

If you added in demons too, who even knew all the things that Lucifer had done and seen?

And she was still just Chloe Decker.

But this was different, this shared nervous fluttering between them. She was overwhelmed because Chloe had always assumed there was _nothing_ Lucifer hadn’t done, seen, or invented himself. Maybe that had never been true. Maybe it was different with someone he loved. Not exactly a first time. She almost snorted out loud at the thought.

No, if anything more like just a different set of stakes.

It somehow made it easier to understand, especially when it was written in his very flesh, that he was as scared of messing up this fragile thing between them as she was. It gave her strength to take the wheel for anything carnal for the night.

Chloe Decker, reprising her role as teenage dream for one time only.

She smirked and drew the hand on his shoulder lower over his torso, fingernails scraping just a bit against the skin there. It didn’t really leave marks; she kept her nails too short for that, but he hissed all the same against the pressure there, perhaps a sensation he hadn’t really felt before because of his usual immortal resilience.

“Now,” she said, affecting a voice a breathier than her own, trying to even remember what it had been like on the set for that dumb movie of hers. Mostly, she’d blanked filming this part out because it had been so embarrassing. Nothing with nudity onset ever resembled the titillation the audiences imagined. Couldn’t call a location brimming with teamsters sexy. However, she’d been an (crappy) actress once. Chloe was capable of calling on the wilder side of herself again. “What am I going to do with you?”

Lucifer swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing noticeably as he did so. Chloe wished she had a bit more height on her just so she could lave at it. “Anything, Detective.”

“You really are good at tempting people, aren’t you?”

He swallowed again, but his dark eyes regarded her with sincerity, no longer trying to avoid her gaze. “I think I could say the same about you.” She snaked her hand down from his pecs and let it come to rest around his second member. Lucifer let out a little hiss and his eyes rolled back a little before her replied. “You may just kill me here.”

Chloe chuckled, something low and throaty and befitting the ingenue she hadn’t been in years. She wrapped each hand gently around the twin shafts and stroked them delicately, lightly, while they rest still under the bubbling water. “I…” she faltered just a little and bit her lower lip as she thought. “I think it would be easier to maneuver everything _physics wise_ , if you sat down.”

She emphasized her point by increasing the pressure of her grip just so. He hissed again, and she wasn’t quite sure, but for a moment, Chloe could have sworn his eyes flashed crimson.

Good, he needed to try and work around the self-consciousness. She knew that was easier said than done, but she’d also witnessed how her skillful hands tended to also short-circuit Lucifer’s higher thoughts.

“You’ve got the bull by the horns, as it were, darling,” he replied, actually smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes as he backed step-by-step to the bench on his side of the whirlpool. As he moved, she kept her grip around his lengths, just teasing, barely stroking. She was going to enjoy testing limits here, seeing how sensitive he was in a two-heads-were-better-than-one sense.

“That’s not a great pun.” She leaned forward even as he slid down onto the bench. Finally releasing her hands for just a moment, she set them down on the tile of the seat, just on either side of his thighs. Inching forward, she pressed her breasts against his chest and whispered into his ear. “Tell me what to do. You’re the one who’s seen that dumb movie more times than anyone should, which, honestly is zero…”

“Oh, I’ve seen it so many times that---”

“Please don’t tell me you can quote it.”

That smirk was still plastered on his face as he mimed locking his lips and then tossing the key over his shoulder.

“Better,” she said, pressing against him again, letting him feel the fullness of her curves against the planes of his body. “I think I have some ideas, maybe even half remember that scene.”

Chloe eased back from the edge just enough to give her hands free rein. Moving them back to, ahem, the love handles, she teased the tips of her fingers over the head of each length. To be fair, Chloe had never exactly been the type to be ambidextrous or a kinesthetic multi-tasker. She could pat her head and rub her tummy at the same time. Badly. Trixie and a weird gym assignment a few years ago had taught her that (she could not, however, roll her tongue). So, in the interest of feigning some sense of coordination, she decided she’d mirror everything with him.

After all, this was definitely uncharted territory.

Wrapping her hands around both shafts more firmly, she reached out with her thumbs to tease back the foreskins. In this case, any additional lubrication wasn’t necessary, not with the swirling waters of the hot tub. Everything was smooth. Easy. Edging her hands up and down his length, Chloe eased closer to him, kissing him first, and then moving to nip playfully at his chin and down the expanse of his neck.

He shuddered under her and talked. Oh, could the Devil talk. Half of it was dirty, promising everything he’d dare do to her later tonight---and she was going to hold him to that---and some of it was oddly sweet, tiny moans of “Oh, Chloe” this and “I’d wait through Hell a hundred times over for now.” Honestly, a mix of her experienced, hedonist Devil and his surprisingly soft underbelly.

Chloe kissed his lips again and tasted his tongue with her own in an effort just to shut him up. Apparently, Lucifer figured two could play at this game and even as she upped the rhythm of her hands, her thumbs always taking an extra beat or two at the ends of his shafts to swirl and tempt the sensitive heads, he started to use his own hands. Strong hands, ones that she’d seen hold a SUV in place and throw a tire like it was _nothing_ were tempered to delicate tenderness. His right hand cupped one breast as the other teased and pinched just a bit at her other nipple.

When she thought she’d gotten her tempo down between the doubling up of her hands, the tangling of her tongue with his, and even the way she shifted her torso ever so slightly to ensure she was giving him the best angle for his talented hands, Lucifer changed things up. He pulled away from her---both his mouth and his hands---and his grin back at her was megawatt in its brightness.

“I’ve an idea.”

“We are _not_ filming this.”

He pouted just a little. “Right then. Well, I have a Plan B, then. Fancy a contest, darling?”

She quirked his head at him even as she slowed her hands to a languid pace over his shafts. “What kind?”

“Well,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Lovely and magical as your hands bloody are, I was a bit curious…”

“And?”

“See who can get me off first?”

She sputtered a little at that. “Was I not---”

His lips on the hollow of her throat temporary short circuited her doubts or any thoughts period. In a few moments---or a few years, who could tell---Lucifer pulled back and regarded her with his usual unerring scrutiny. “Never. However, it seemed like a challenge, something to have a go at. Would you?”

She considered it. “One condition.”

His smirk broadened, as he sensed her resolve weakening. “Do tell.”

“Your left hand only.”  
  


“You know, I’m right-handed and that’s my wanking---”

“You want to race, then those are the terms.”

“And if I win? Come first?” he challenged, sticking his chin up high with all the haughty authority of the king he had been.

“Then, ugh G…I mean…help me, I’ll actually find a uni outfit and do that roleplay thing you’ve always talked about.”

“And if you win?” He shook his head. “Of course, long odds, that. But if you best Old Scratch, then what?”

“I have an idea, something _I’d_ like to try, but I want it to be a surprise till after.”

“Oh, for reference, if you want me to get an outfit, I have a delightful collection of things in leather.”

“Not exactly,” she said, dragging her forefinger lazily down the center of his right shaft, promising exactly why she’d win. “But I think you’ll like it.”

This time, she was certain she’d seen it. His eyes _did_ glow red. Oh, Lucifer was interested and not just because he couldn’t resist a good deal. “That’s an agreement then, Detective?”

“You bet.”

He leveled a grin at her that Chloe was fairly certain was illegal in the lower 48, possibly all the country, and then, as per the rules, moved his left arm under the water. “You’ll count us down then, won’t you, darling?”

Chloe slipped her hand around his right shaft and batted her eyelashes guilelessly back at him. “Ready, set, go!”

And honestly, she’d meant to start right away because he already had she didn’t really want to focus on exactly how many years and centuries of practice ahead of her in this area as a head start, but Chloe faltered. Mostly because it was such an intoxicating thing to hear the low moan escape his lips and watch him throw his head back with his eyes closed and mouth hanging open. Made the spot at the apex of her thighs throb with need and her heart pound faster. She could understand in that moment how easily the humans he’d met over the decades had fallen into bed with him. Hell, how probably _most_ of current day Los Angeles had.

He noticed her hesitation. Lucifer didn’t break his rhythm, but he did open one eye, just a small slit really, as he regarded her. “Doesn’t count as a contest, Detective, if you forfeit. Maybe you’re just a voyeur deep down.”

It was enough for her to finally leap out of the gate. She was many things, and honestly, being a cop made her competitive. Always had been that way, especially when most of the precinct expected that little girl from _Hot Tub High School_ to fall flat on her face and ruin her dad’s legacy. She wasn’t going to lose.

She gripped him firmly, the solidity of his erection not heavy in her hand due to the water around them. But definitely hard, like gripping iron. Lucifer was getting the good end of this challenge…for now. Slipping her right hand down, she teased him first, going far slower than Lucifer was even as he seemed to be bringing his other member close to climax.

“You sure you want to be all about the build-up, love?” Lucifer teased, his eyes clamped shut again and his words slightly slurred with his growing ecstasy. “I’m rather good at this.”

Chloe smirked at him, even if he couldn’t see. And then she brought her hand back to the tip of his shaft, teasing back the foreskin again. This time, though, she lingered at the tip, ghosting her thumb and forefinger first over the slit first, then sliding nimbly over the head. Down until she reached the underside, swirled her thumb and forefinger on the sensitive skin there. Then, she started over again. Flicks that grew in speed and intensity until Lucifer wasn’t just moaning to himself.

No.

He was arching the right side of his hip toward her in the most awkward of motions, as if trying to chase her hand. The litany out of his mouth had changed from incoherent to something clear and guttural, the mumblings of a language she’d never heard. With him, it could be either Celestial or demonic in nature. Didn’t matter much. The way he tried to flex his hip against her plus the tone of the words told her that whatever the words were, they were _filthy_.

She added her middle finger to the mix, stroking the underside of him more steadily, even as her forefinger and thumb lavished attention over his sensitive head. Chloe, alright, maybe cheated just a hint by pressing her body against him, letting him feel the pressure of her breasts tight to his side. It might have technically been the spirit of the law, if not the letter, but it worked. He shouted something that was, she decided, probably demonic (angels seemed too pious to have words for _this_ ) and leaned into her as he came, shuddering in the water as his seed spread out between her fingers and then out to the pool beyond.

He was breathing heavily and yet his left arm was still pumping---more frantically than before if possible---when he shuddered a second time. Then, his head jerked up and his eyes opened wide. Red eyes, ones that Chloe had somehow in some crazy, mixed up way, found terrifying in a museum loft, glittered back at her.

She’d rarely felt either more powerful or more turned on in her life.

Taking a deep breath, she slid her hand away, and eased back to her side of the hot tub, grinning at him like the Cheshire Cat. “I think I won.”

“You didn’t completely play fair,” he muttered, still panting a little.

“I thought you understood being creative with the wording of a deal,” she replied. “That’s kind of your thing, right?”

He chuckled warmly and leaned back low enough to set his head on the rim of the hot tub. “Sometimes. I can hardly complain about the results, can I, Detective?” He regarded her, the coherence coming back to him. This time it was deep brown eyes regarding her. The enormity of his focus always like a weight on her; Seriously the Devil never blinked. “What is it you’ve won then, Chloe? Can’t say I’m not frightfully curious.”

Chloe’s confidence, despite everything that had just transpired, faltered. It would sound dumb out loud, wouldn’t it? Like too much? Or from his perspective like she’d been replaced by some succubus or sex-crazed pod person, right?

Lucifer leaned closer. “Serious, tell me, darling. It can’t be any dirtier than what we’ve just done.”

She swallowed hard and teased her lower lip between her teeth. “I…canyoutakemeatthesametime?”

Lucifer blinked at her a few times as he seemed to try and suss out what she’d said so quickly. “Beg pardon, love?”

“I…” God…no, couldn’t think that again…oh shit, note to self, _never_ say that in bed. How awkward. No, well, if she wanted it, she’d have to ask for it more clearly, wouldn’t she? “Double penetration?” she asked, almost tempted to slide back under the water and just let herself drowned there, but it was a petri dish currently below the surface, and that would have been _worse_.

Instead, Chloe just closed her eyes, felt her cheeks flame red, and hoped that he didn’t laugh her out of the whirlpool altogether.

It was quiet for a long time. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was as shocked by her request as she was once it was out of her mouth or because she’d somehow offended him about his current condition.

Confused and finally desperate to end the standoff, Chloe opened her eyes and frowned back at him. “No, that was probably really stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. I…forget I asked.”

Lucifer sighed and shook his head. “Well, first off, Detective, perhaps I underestimated your adventurous streak quite a bit even with the responsible act on the job.”

“Possibly, but I think this is a leap for me, to be honest.”

She’d done some things that were distinctly not vanilla as a young actress and, yes, she and Dan had done things early on in their marriage before Trixie came along to keep things spiced up, toys and role play, mostly. Boy was role play a can of worms she so wasn’t going to again. Stupid hangover effect of a Catholic school education was all she was saying. After her monkey had come along, that sexually adventurous side had been thoroughly stamped out between childcare duties, late nights at work, and eventually, a decaying marriage.

Anything after Dan had been very much missionary, lights off.

Much grunting and not much for her, and why had she ever thought of marrying Marcus again? Even if he _weren’t_ the Sinnerman and, apparently, the world’s first murderer (what the fuck Lucifer?), he was about as interesting as the rocks he collected.

Lucifer quirked his head at her even as he tapped his right forefinger against the Mediterranean tile covering the lip of the hot tub. Pale fingertip against Aegean blue. “You’re being serious, darling?”

She nodded and figured she was a damn tomato in front of him. “But if it’s awkward…or you’re not into it…or again, I know it’s not like you asked for your subconscious to go crazy.” She swallowed hard and stared down at the bubbles in the water. “Forget I asked.”

The was a sloshing of water and she was almost about to complain about the pelting her hair was getting when strong arms wrapped around her, and Lucifer dragged her to his chest. “Oh, I can accommodate that. Just as long as you want it…I confess, with you I have to take your word for it. With anyone else, it’s so very easy to make sure I’m performing correctly.”

She frowned at that, something sad stabbing into her heart at that type of confession. Did he realize how transactional that sounded? As if any night with someone had just been about what he could give them and never about what he got back in return, not really.

One day, she swore, she was going to find a way to meet his dad and sock him one. Both for exiling Lucifer and saddling him with an ability that made her partner clearly feel he had to please everyone, whether he was truly happy with the deal or not.

You know, assuming one mortal cop could punch God. That seemed unlikely, but it would be very cathartic.

She kissed Lucifer long and deeply. When Chloe pulled back, she put a hand under his chin, keeping his focus firmly on her. “I never thought about that. I guess it’s a little like doing something blind or, well, at least without one of your senses in a way. I promise that when I tell you I’d like to do something here or in the bedroom in general---”

He smirked. “Or the living room or the kitchen or your flat or in the evidence lock up---”

“Yes, we get it, babe,” she replied. “When I tell you I’d like to try something, I mean it. So, if you don’t want to, I get it, no pressure. But if you’d like to, well, I’m…I’d _really_ like to.”

Lucifer leaned against her, and he was hard---all of him was---already. Right, immortal being older than the known universe. Refractory period not a thing. Man, Chloe was going to have work out more than just her usual morning runs and weekly Pilates class as girl-bonding with Ella. Maybe she could or, really, should start training for half-marathons.

At the least.

“Oh, then have no doubt, Detective, I’m more than up for it.”

She groaned a little. “Puns. So, you still have time for basically single entendre.”

“That was a full pun!”

“Sure, Satan, it sure was.”

**

The hardest, well, _most difficult_ part of the idea was the literal physics of it. Lucifer had focused for once, and apparently his mind was very serious and organized when it came to planning out debauchery. Figured. But he decided that the hot tub itself would help. Technically, whether water rendered her weightless or not should be a moot point, since he was impossibly strong. On the other hand, he wasn’t able to guarantee that he’d be concentrating worth a damn once things escalated. Made enough sense.

So, she found herself just testing the position---not close to trying stuff yet because she wasn’t fully _prepared_ , as he’d intoned gravely---but she was before him as he sat on the seat on his side of the hot tub. Currently, Chloe was turned to him in profile with her outer right thigh resting against his abdomen. But the rest of the exact Tab A-into-Slot B was beyond her. Then again, higher thought was rapidly becoming a pipe dream with how much heat was flaring in her belly and how her most sensitive nerves were throbbing with anticipation. She was standing there basically with one leg crossed over the other just to keep her from jumping Lucifer any way she could.

Pathetic, Chloe knew.

Lucifer studied her like he was about to solve the problem of cold fusion. “Detective, pardon the question, but how flexible are you?”

“Huh?”

  
“I think if you could set your leg on one of my shoulders that might help.”

She laughed. “You know, you see that book the _Kama Sutra_ in some shops or hear about it, but you never think it took like research and planning and possibly diagrams.”

He beamed back at her. “Oh, I still have some of the original scrolls I planned that on down in my former realm. Snuck them back as a memento after Amenadiel forced me home.”

Chloe blanched. “You really helped write the Kama Sutra? I figured that was an empty brag you liked to needle Dan with.”

“Yes, you assumed that when I brought it up shortly after Miss Lopez was hired because you _still_ believed I was human yet hopelessly eclectic. However, I very much helped get that lovely tome into print, Detective. And, yes, chortle as one must, but sex positions do require some thought. Well, less so when you’re a Celestial, and if you truly wanted, could summon wings forth for extra balance or aerial sex…”

“Aerial what?” she squeaked. Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. “I…did you drop anyone?”

He snickered. “Never and I’d never drop you, if my bloody body ever figures out how to cooperate with what I actually _want_ it to do.” He sighed again and for a moment was quiet until he collected himself. “However, I think if you could just lean your right leg up on my shoulder, I might be able to get access.”

Chloe nodded and tried. While she had been doing Pilates with Ella mostly regularly on Saturdays for about a year, she couldn’t quite make it work, her ankle slipped the three times she tried. Lucifer was _tall_.

He frowned. “Erm, right then. Maybe just on the hot tub ledge, darling?”

She shook her head. “If you’re about to suggest a special sex stretching regimen, I swear…”

“Granted, not now but after some of this,” he said, gesturing to himself. “…gets sorted, well, I have the original copy of the _Karma Sutra_ and a great plan for mortals to work from. It wouldn’t hurt since you don’t heal as I do, and we wouldn’t want you to tear a ligament or sprain whatever it is humans sprain.”

“Technically, you only heal fast when I’m _not_ around,” she muttered, setting her right ankle on the rim of the hot tub.

It felt awkward but would probably work. No, wait, scratch that, Lucifer had arched his hips up and she could feel both tips of _him_ approaching her core and her hole simultaneously. It _would_ work and with a bonus 85% chance she wouldn’t pull a hamstring.

“Right then, this should do.” He surprised her by sitting back on the hot tub’s seat. “Now, of course, this would take some preparation. I don’t want to assume anything about the last time you’ve had sex, but…”

“It’s been a while,” she said.

He let out a sigh of relief, and she wasn’t sure to be offended he thought she’d gotten bored with him ruling Hell or just sad for him that he’d assumed she’d ever try to move on without him.

“Right, well, turn around and face the penthouse, Detective. Show us that lovely backside of yours.”

“Oh, right!”

“Yes, it’s complicated. You may have thought me an inveterate man-child.”

“Nope, still do.”

“But amorous adventures require forethought,” he said, an honestly adorable note of pride creeping into his voice. Why not? Even with his subconscious running amok, this was, after all, his domain. He set one hand, palm flat, over her left cheek. “Now, have you ever---”

She was glad he couldn’t see her blush from this angle. “Yes. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was fine for what it was.”

“So, with the Douche?”

“I am _not_ answering that. And I had a life before I was a rookie at the LAPD, by the way.”

“Backstage debauchery?” he asked, his voice growing louder. “I’m impressed.”

“Not answering that either,” she said, clipped a bit. “I think that’s fair. I don’t ask about your rolodex, and you don’t prod for anything that could, let’s be honest, mostly be used somehow as blackmail or a way to needle Dan.”

“Ooh, so I was right. Got it in one…well, soon in two as it were.”

“Lucifer,” she said, her tone tired. “You were asking for a reason, and yes, I’ve done anal before, and yes, it’s been at least a decade so read into that what you will. I just…yeah that’s been a while.”

“Right,” he said. “Then, let me loosen you up first a bit, Detective. You want me to, yes?”

She snorted a little at the oddness of her life. At honestly how both methodical and polite Lucifer was being with what she imagined was an unspeakably filthy and, apparently, so secret a desire she’d never realized she even had it before tonight. “Yes. Just so you know, you have a big, neon ‘Yes, I desire this’ to you tonight.”

“Splendid, but I didn’t want to catch you unawares.”

His other hand reached up and grabbed her hip with a fraction of the strength she knew he had. How he could calibrate it so well, she had no idea. Well, usually calibrate it. Didn’t really go well for Ty Huntley’s agent that one time through plate glass. The hand other stroked her ass cheeks until his one, long pointer finger teased over her crack.

“Sure?”

“I’m going to get cold if you don’t do something,” she said, her voice laced through with a teasing tone. “Please, Lucifer.”

He said nothing then, not even a hint of sarcasm back to her. Instead she shivered a bit as one hand spread her and with his right, he pressed the tip of his forefinger against her hole. She took a few deep breaths and then there was pressure, and his finger was inside her, stretching her out. It slid in, aided a bit by the fact she was already soaked by sitting for a while in the hot tub and with the water sluicing all around them. Still, it really _had_ been a long time, and she inhaled sharply at the intrusion.

She had been bracing for it, really.

It was just not something you exactly remembered correctly.

Lucifer rubbed her ass with his other hand even as he moved his forefinger deeper inside of her. He was going at a practically glacial pace, which she appreciated, because it had just been so long. God, having a kid really had killed a lot of things for a long time. Well, that and to be super honest, her workaholic streak. _That_ could be a real buzzkill; right now, Chloe could admit that.

“Are you alright, Detective?”

She laughed and it came out as a stifled snort. _Sexy, Chloe_. “Sorry, I just…you don’t have to be so proper and British-which-you’re-not about it. I mean, you have a finger up my ass, Lucifer. You don’t have to call me ‘Detective’ currently.” She laughed genuinely then. “It might ruin crime scenes for me.”

He practically purred his next words. “Ooh, is that a challenge? Maybe make sure you have this association built up better than Pavlov’s mutts. Make you come just by saying your title, love?”

“Wait did you---” she said, breaking her own rule about bringing up past lovers.

He chuckled and it sounded like warm sin. “But of course, I know a lot about automatic bodily responses,” Lucifer finished, slipping in his middle finger along with the first. “Don’t I?”

She hissed at that, and even though it was a newer sensation, her body was loosening up. Getting used to all of it. With the second digit inserted, Chloe mewled a little and pressed back against him.

“That’s good then, is it, Chloe?”

She frowned at that. Lucifer was so peculiar about names and titles. Since she’d seen his other face, Chloe had wondered if some of that was a Devil thing. Or at least a magical thing. Some of the myths she’d Googled told her if certain kinds of magical beings knew your full name, well, they could summon or control you. Chloe had no idea if that were true, and what even was her life anymore? However, while “Detective” wasn’t exactly a great idea here because she really would start getting wet if he just said it over at the precinct at this rate, conditioned response and all, she also didn’t know if she wanted it to always be “Chloe,” either.

There was something sweet and disarming about the few times he ever did say her name, almost like a prayer, and how very odd that was.

He stroked her back with his free hand lovingly. “Chloe, are you still with me? I’m going to do one last one finger for a mo. Then I can, as they say, make the trade.”

She gulped at that, not sure if she’d be ready for the switch, but so far, it was going well. Of all the things Lucifer knew how to do, Chloe didn’t really doubt this one. “No, I’m fine…it’s just…my name?”

“Beg pardon?” he asked, and true to his word, his third finger slid in too. There was less room this time for obvious reasons, and she took in deep, shuddering breaths until he eased that third digit inside as well. “Are you saying not to call you ‘Detective’ or ‘Chloe?’”

There was a bit of an affront in his tone, and while he was still stretching her slowly inside---and not the best time to argue, especially over a misunderstanding---his other hand had left her hip.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what am I to call you?”

“Well, if you say ‘Detective’ all the time, you’re right. I’ll end up having to change about ten times a day at the station.”

She could hear the leer in his voice as he spoke. “But of course, this voice whispered in your ear, _Detective_ , could get you to do anything.”

“And I like that you don’t say my actual name a lot. It’s sweet.”

He massaged her from the inside, moving his fingers slowly but steadily through her tunnel. “Not sweet, still the Devil, darling.”

She chuckled at that. Sure, the Devil. The one who let her kid win at Monopoly, always bitched when the station vending machine ran out of cool ranch puffs, and the guy who let Ella ramble to him about her favorite _Stark Trek_ episodes. Some terrifying monster of legend he was.

“I am!”

“Yes, you’re very fearsome, Lucifer.”  
  


“I can stop you know,” he said, highlighting his points by edging his fingers back.

She clamped down a little and pressed her rear against him. “Don’t you dare.”

“Then, what should your fluffy bunny of a devil call you?”

“‘Darling’s’ fine. Pet names…whatever…we’ll figure out.”

“I can ferret through that, I suppose,” he said, removing his hand, and she mewled at the loss of pressure from his fingers inside of her. “I don’t promise to drop ‘Detective’ completely. It’s too delicious.”

“Fine, but if I end up a mess at work or hot and bothered at crime scenes---”

“What more joy could I get than that?” he joked. Then, taking a deep breath, he rubbed his left hand---the one that had steadied her all this time---down her back and over her hips. “It’s time for you to sidle over to me, love. Work all the logistics out from actual to theoretical, as it were.”

She nodded and turned to him, glad that after how the evening had started and his understandably morose frustration with his psychosomatic issues, Lucifer seemed not just happy but also very interested. He studied her with his hungry gaze and her nerves throbbed again.

As insane-sounding as her idea had been to say out loud, Chloe Decker was beyond ready.

She swallowed a bit and eased to him so that her left leg was parallel to his waist and her right was draped, somewhat less-than-artfully over the rim of the hot tub and near his right ribs. “Totally ready, and, yes, I want this.”

He chuckled. “I’m getting predictable.”

She blushed and glanced down at the water, though she couldn’t see both of his members really through the bubbles. “I don’t think that could be true.”

“Cheeky,” he said, shifting his hips and then maneuvering quite a bit behind her and over her shoulder.

She wasn’t sure all the ways he had to bend and manipulate himself to make it all fit, and she was too damn horny to care. All she knew was soon that bereft feeling she’d had when he’d pulled his fingers out of her was replaced with the pressure of his length at her hole, and then the slow, calculated, and tempting slide of his shaft into her.

Chloe moaned but shuddered in place. This was complicated, and she figured if she wriggled too much, she’d just make it a slower process, which she _did not want_. It had been enough of a warm-up by now.

Lucifer, as he always did, talked. Though this time, it was all reassurances, gentle and sweet as he kissed her right shoulder and stroked her side with lithe fingers. “That’s good, darling. Nice and easy.”

She had to chuckle again. “Not a horse either.”

“Well, perhaps you’ll give me a list of things to say next time,” he teased. “I was a bit concerned. You said it had been a while, and it’s an awkward angle so---”

She reached out and stroked what she could reach of his shoulder and part of his right side. “I’m fine. I know you’re nervous because I can’t just tell you the way someone else would, but I’m really fine, Lucifer. It feels great. Okay, so I feel a little like a weird pretzel too, but I’ve rarely felt so full before.” She arched her hips up and felt the heft of him inside her. “Love it.”  
  


“Ha, always knew there was quite the saucy minx here underneath.”

“Maybe,” she said, smiling coyly.

Before she could say anything else, talented pianist fingers found her most sensitive spot, that bundle of nerves driving her wild. Chloe bit her lower lip and tried to think of the last time she’d had to clean out her desk at work. _Anything_ totally boring to keep her from coming just from the feel of him inside her part way and his fingers playing her nub with the same skill he usually saved for his Steinway.

“Lucifer…”

“Wanted to make sure you were ready for the second act,” he admitted.

“I’m so ready that I can’t contain myself.”

“Alright, good then, darling,” he said, his voice a low throaty purr that made her nerves throb harder and her belly clench with lust. “Then, forgive me a bit. This is a new bit of positioning even for me.”

She nodded but her mind was already half-blissed out with his fingers teasing her with a fanciful rhythm against her most sensitive spot, and the hardness of his first length pressing up against her G-spot from the other side. Soon, she felt---however he’d managed it---his other member pressed against opening.

Inch by inch, he slid in.

She mewled and threw her head back, letting her feel the sensation of being full, of having each shaft pressing against her G-spot, about all the electricity already humming under her skin. Lucifer, somehow, still had the flexibility to lean close to her and nip at her neck, trailing his tongue over the hollow of her throat. Then, he spoke:

“Are you ready, love?”

“Fuck me, Lucifer,” she said, her voice no longer unsure and her skin no longer flushed. She knew what she wanted, had known what she’d wanted since he’d first stood up in the tub like that. “Do whatever you want.”

“An open-ended invitation to the Devil is a dangerous thing, Chloe.”

She arched her neck back enough to catch his eye and smile at him. “I know. I’m serious. You’re the expert, so show me all you know.”

He captured her mouth with his and kissed her deeply, his tongue doing sinful things with her own that his lengths started to mimic as he flexed his hips.

Chloe shuddered at first, stilling at the new sensation. She’d done anal before, though, again it seemed like another lifetime ago when she had. She’d _never_ even thought about being double penetrated before tonight, about how it would both feel amazing and so overwhelming like she couldn’t move. As if there couldn’t possibly be any space left inside of her.

Lucifer stilled. “Are you still, okay?”

“Yes, it’s a lot. I…so good but so much.”

He went back to kissing her, promising her things that he delivered on with every thrust. Chloe closed her eyes, unable to do anything more than be carried away with the sensations around her: the sound of the water splashing, the strength of his embrace with arms like steel cages wrapped surely around her, the hungry grasp of his tongue, and the heft of him---the _double_ heft of him---as he pushed his hips against her, as his tempo reached a frantic pace.

That electricity jumped over every inch of her skin, ran through her nerves, and the heat was an inferno as it roared from her belly and up her limbs. So much. So good. Everything. And her focus was blacking out behind her eyelids.

Lucifer shifted his hips just a little to the left, and that did it. Both of his shafts hitting her G-spot with such perfect skill that she came, screaming his name and who knew what else and shuddering in his arms, the electrical flickers over her skin were a full out strike of lightening, and for a few moments, everything faded out.

When she blinked awake again, she found herself lying in Lucifer’s bed. He’d dressed her in that awful shirt from _Sol de Javier_ , since that green monstrosity was probably the only t-shirt he actually would deign to keep around. However, she was grateful to be warm and dry, if still slightly pruney, even as she curled up under his satin sheets.

“I was out that long?”

He smirked at her. “Hardly. I’m both fast, and you were still mostly awake and murmuring to yourself, albeit rather blissed out. You muttered a bit about ‘love handles next time,’ and I haven’t the foggiest idea what that is. Care to share that with the rest of the class?”

She blushed and shook her head. There was no way with everything he was struggling with about himself that Chloe would tell him about a stupid dream so long ago _with horns_. He’d clearly misunderstand it, and after such an awesome time, she didn’t want to destroy anything.

“I don’t really want to share. Later, maybe?” she begged.

He nodded and, as she suspected, had nothing to cover himself with. Even those black silk pajama pants he lounged in wouldn’t quite accommodate the still very present situation. Chloe licked her lips even as he made his way to the other side of the bed, reveling in how the silver glow of the moonlight highlighted the way his twin lengths bobbed with his strut.

Lucifer slid into the bed next to her and hesitated before pulling her flush to him. “I suppose, Detective, the polite thing to ask would be about whether you prefer to be the big spoon or the little spoon. I don’t want to presume, especially with that orgasmic fog clearing your mind, but if you find the, uh, problem I’m having repugnant with a clearer mind, well, I can always be the little spoon.” He frowned at that. “Well, metaphorically speaking. Still have nearly a foot on you, don’t I?”

She rolled her eyes, and moved across the bed, situating herself with her hips turned to him. “I think I’d like to be the one cradled tonight, Lucifer. You know I love you.”

“I do.”

“So, whenever you calm down is fine. If you’re like this all weekend, great. Whatever works, and believe me, it’s definitely been working so far.”

He sighed again, and she looked over her shoulder just long enough to see a confusing play of emotions across his face. Issues and thoughts that maybe even Linda didn’t have a prayer of figuring out over their sessions. However, he eventually offered her his debonair smile and pulled her to him. It was a bit different to feel _all_ of him against her, and _damn_ if he technically wasn’t ready again, although she was truly spent.

“Wow, you’re happy to see me, huh?” she joked.

“Ah, yes. I do have legendary stamina, Detective, but I assure you I just want to cuddle.”

She burrowed against his left arm as it pillowed her head. “Me too, Lucifer. I…thank you.”

He kissed her temple so very gently as if after all she’d done tonight, he could still see her as an impossibly fragile thing. She’d have to work on that, on that pedestal Lucifer even now had a tendency to put her on. “No, Chloe, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to particular pertinent research link - https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/style/longterm/books/chap1/deathof.htm


	3. Ophidian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now they're just getting weirder... ;)

“And that is how everything ended out, Doctor.”

Lucifer had anticipated Linda’s need to have to fully digest everything he’d had to relay about his last amorous rendezvous with the Detective. For his part as a consummate host and dedicated patient, it meant that he had closed Lux a bit later into the afternoon (sod Happy Hour) and had allowed the good doctor any spot of top shelf liquor she asked for. Currently, she was on her second shot of Macallan. Good choice. He had his own shot of that beside him.

Linda drained the drink and then tapped her fingernails on the table, a consistent clack, clack, clack that betrayed her difficulty with gathering her thoughts. Finally, she eyed him---this time doing a better job of focusing on his face---and nodded.

“I can see why you decided to have this session at Lux and not even back at my house.”

“Well, first off, I don’t relish having my prat of an older brother walk in on a conversation of ours. I couldn’t stand him nattering at me about accidentally exposing Charlie to an overload of TMI even less. Not that it makes a drop of sense, a toddler won’t know the difference, but Amenadiel has always been awfully prudish.”

Linda smirked back at him. “You don’t need to make assumptions, Lucifer.”

“Oh yes, that expression of it makes ‘an ass out of u and me,’ yes? How delightfully trite.”

“No because you would like for your brother to be that dull, but I have to say that Amenadiel isn’t always boring or a prude. Besides, setting out boundaries for Charlie is good practice. He won’t always be under a year. Eventually, he will know what all these words mean.”

“Then bully for him, get a start on sex ed.”

“Well, that would be quite the crash course.” She reached for the bottle but declined eventually taking a third shot. “However, it’s still easier to do it here for today. I admit that imaging such a set up---”

“Two Big Bens for the price of one, dear Doctor?” he said, trying to lean into all of it as best he could. He offered Linda a smirk that he wasn’t truly feeling.

Part of that was because they’d once, well, traded sex so he could have free therapy. But another part of it was deeper, was that he was exhausted and confused by everything his mind kept doing to him. His own foolish worries and insecurities, things he’d never had or, at least, buried so deeply that they had never bothered even the back of his mind with other lovers. But Chloe wasn’t just any lover, was she?

He just loathed that it was a waste to put up an image before the doctor because she’d see through it anyway, but that bluster was as much his armor as his three-piece suits and screw you too, Father, quite literally his wings and warped body when in Devil form.

“That’s a way to put it.” She sighed and set her elbow on the bar. “How do you really feel about all of this? So far, you’ve had three very disparate experiences with your self-actualization and how it can…initially attempt to impede your sex life. But I think you need to recognize that each time, you’ve adjusted on the fly and---”

“Honestly, it’s been the Detective who’s accommodated to everything. Between giant cocks and snowy semen and double trouble, she’s been running the gamut of what she’s both creative with and tolerating from the likes of me.”

Linda adjusted her glasses a bit and considered that. “But you admitted yourself that she enjoyed all three times.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re worried that it might set a pattern of, shall we say, increased expectations?”

He sighed and twisted at his cufflinks. “I just don’t like having to feel both like I’m competing with alternate versions of myself _and_ that my mind will finally pick something else…something just too far…to much around the bend, and it will be too much.”

“After three times, do you really believe there are things Chloe can’t or won’t handle?”

He pulled so hard on his cufflinks that one tore off in his grip and he cursed under his breath, both for losing his cool and for ruining his favorite Brioni shirt. “She promises she will, and she’s been very enthusiastic, perhaps more than I ever would have suspected as far as my monstrous side goes. However, I just…”

“I can’t begin to imagine how hard it is to have your body betray you in such a spectacular fashion.” The doctor leaned forward, and although they were rarely physically affectionate with each other, he was soothed by her reaching out to touch the back of his hand. “I know what it’s like to have your body change when you’re not expecting it. I never realized how many hiccups and pains were involved with pregnancy even after the bits we covered in med school. And, I’ll admit, I was scared for a while that angel baby would lead to even more complications. So, I can offer that much insight. Control’s important to you, for obvious reasons. This is a situation in which you lack that.”

“Utterly traitorous subconscious.”

“And yet,” Linda continued. “Maybe a loss of control is exactly how you gain control again.”

He stopped gazing at the ruin of his right sleeve and frowned down at the doctor. “I don’t think I follow. Are you saying I should just let my subconscious summon a veritable witch’s bible of devilish forms or even more mythological variations of legendary evil?”

“I’d say that first,” she added, patting his hand, “you aren’t evil.”

“Well, there’s a very famous book that’s sold innumerable copies that would argue with you there,” he said.

“But you know that it’s not the truth or, at least, there’s really both sides to a story. It’s a _Rashomon_ effect. There is no doubt there are some things that your Father has elided to make Himself look better over the years, and judging from how He’s treated both you and Amenadiel…well…I’m glad He has left Charlie alone so far. However, you have to admit there are sides to the Rebellion you led that you would take back if you could. Having the worst family fight in history doesn’t mean that you’re evil. We’ve worked on that too.”

He shrugged, and while he desperately wanted that to be the truth, he hadn’t yet gotten to everything he’d done in Hell again, all the things he’d allowed under his returned rule to set things right after Dromos’s revolt. The doctor didn’t know how he’d worked his way up the ranks the first time around or the pleasures he’d taken long ago---and if he were totally transparent with himself---after long months that felt like years in Hell this time around torturing mortal souls.

Linda knew him better in some ways than almost any human could. He’d worked ever since Kinley to hide those dark places from Chloe, but now they kept being writ large on his skin, and he wasn’t sure he could keep doing it. Keep it altogether.

“I _feel_ evil.”

“So, is it more that this is a defense mechanism?”

“You’re the psychoanalyst, you tell me.”

“Well, it’s possible that this is a mix of both---your fear of rejection, which is understandable again considering your family history as well as your own need, deep down, to see if there’s anything you can do or a front you can put up to get Chloe to leave before you’re in too deeply.”

“Why would I want the Detective to leave? It’s taken years to get together and a deal I had to swing with Remiel and Duma to have my domain watched while I stayed here. And if you think having to beg Remi wasn’t the worst thing I’ve about ever done, then you’d be bloody wrong.” He leaned forward and grabbed his scotch, deciding that he needed it anyway. Not that he could get drunk, alas, on a few shots and far from the Detective.

“It’s possible that part of you is testing a rip cord of sorts, splitting before you’re even more emotionally involved.”

He narrowed his eyes at her as he gulped down the Scotch. “You’re cold, cold, cold, Doctor. I would never do this even at a psychosomatic level to _sabotage_ myself. I want the Detective…I love Chloe more than anything.”

“Yes, and it’s not sabotage. It’s more about building up a different type of wall between you and Chloe.”

“But why would even a small, subconscious part of me do that?”

“Because while you and Chloe have been through a lot, you’re both learning about intimacy with each other, and the trauma of her going to Rome and everything with Kinley…of her being unable to accept your Devil side for a time is a deep wound. It takes time to heal and to regrow that type of trust. And, I suspect, your subconscious is prodding at those limits.” She adjusted her glasses again and let out a long sigh. “I suggest that you just let this go wherever your subconscious places it and don’t question it and try not to judge it. Clearly, Chloe seems to be even more game to try this than you are, to prove she’s changed as have you.”

“Yes, well,” he said, raking a hand through his hair, annoyed by the stray strands that fell into his eyes. “So the only way out is through? That’s the advice?”

“More like let your subconscious run its course, trust Chloe, and work hard not to doubt yourself. I know that’s easier said than done, but clearly there have been unexpected benefits and positive side effects of this too. Despite the frustration, you may find that exploring this and tearing down your walls bring you and Chloe closer together not just emotionally but via shared experience.”

“You mean a lot of unusual monster sex, then.”

And Linda, who had kept up so admirably with everything and stayed professional, finally did blush, red coloring her cheeks up to her ears. “Because you’ll be having intimate experiences with each other.” She pulled her hand back but smiled up at him. “Because your appearance when things change is still just a facet of how you feel and, eventually, you will feel better about yourself because you’ll trust Chloe loves you as much as she actually does.”

The words were wonderful, everything he wanted to believe. But even now, the doctor wasn’t wrong, and he had such little faith in himself, could picture the night in the penthouse above where the Detective had screamed at him about her terror…that she’d been _terrified of him_. And deep down, especially with all he’d had to do to keep order in Hell recently, he was worried that she still felt that way.

And that paradoxically, some part of her was drawn to the monstrous parade as a turn on. That the Detective had a kink for a bit of monster in her man.

Or in his case, perhaps only the monster as a spot of fun but nothing more.

He just didn’t know, and as loathe as he was to continue going through with their insane romantic attempts that led to Lovecraftian “Dear Penthouse” tales, working through it was the only acceptable choice. Lucifer couldn’t leave the Detective---never would again, even if there were an apocalypse.

“So, just keep having sex in a variety of forms is the plan, Doctor?”

She shook her head. “No, accepting all facets of yourself while you realize how much Chloe loves you is the plan. I’m not exactly saying embrace this, but I’m saying try not to worry as much in the moment. Just see where it all leads and eventually the walls should crumble, and the changes should stop.”

Lucifer considered that and drained his glass. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Sometimes you have to face everything to get what you want and what you need.”

“And that would be the cue for the session to end and for me to speak to you as a brother-in-law, more or less. If life is all a bowl of cherries when you work through the ordeal to get what you want and need and blue birds are singing and all that ruddy crap…then why haven’t you faced how you feel about my brother?”

“You’re not my therapist,” Linda said, her expression growing pinched.

“No, but I am a friend, a semi-relative, and help me, an uncle to a teenage mutant angel baby. I worry about you, honestly. You have such a busy life, but I wonder if you have slowed down a bit to appreciate all that you have.”

“I do appreciate what I have. I have a good partner for raising my child, a man I respect and can laugh with over Charlie’s accomplishments and antics, and a son I care about more than anything. Thanks to you and meeting the girls, I even have a lot of friends and that never happened before. I don’t want to press for more.”

“Now who thinks they don’t deserve something, Linda?”

She hopped down from her stool, and he swung his leg over to follow suit, although with more grace as she was so tiny that the stool for her was a formidable obstacle. “I know you’re trying to help but everything with Amenadiel is fragile. I do want more, but it’s a fine balance, and you don’t have that same kind of refined touch.”

He brought his hand to his chest in pure affront. “Oh, how dare you! I could be a delicate matchmaker if I so chose.”

“I saw how you tried wooing Chloe away from Pierce. Any suggestion that I buy a car for Amenadiel---”

He chuckled. “Anything better than a lumbering minivan, curse of all new parents, would be a step up.”

“No. I…I trust you in many ways as a friend and as family but helping me with Amenadiel is _not_ one of them.”

Lucifer pretended it didn’t sting a little. Linda had a lot of faith in him in other domains, but the woman had yet to appreciate his sense on all things desire-concerned. Well, once with the clown masks, but that, to be fair, was more of a lust thing.

“Alright, but have you need of my romantic services and advice, I could get you and Amenadiel to get over that ‘oh we’re just friends and co-parents’ tension in an afternoon.” He winked at her as he led her out of Lux. “Do think about it, lamb.”

“No. Gonna pass.”

“Too bad on that.”

**

Lucifer was not a fan of the beach. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he had first cut off his original set of feathered wings at the beach. He had seen it as his place of liberation after he’d hoodwinked Amenadiel over his necklace. It was, of course, where he’d first kissed the Detective, although he still felt that she deserved someone better. And it was where he’d been able to save his mum, at least via a loophole. Overall, the location for good or ill brought him memories of his time on Earth that he treasured deeply. On the other hand, a day at the beach was like a side of torture.

And he’d know.

First, he was able to actually sun burn thanks to being in the Detective’s presence, and that was an utter bitch to find out a few months back. He’d been pink and peeling for days. Not to mention heard a million and one bloody lobster jokes at the station from the Douche. Second, it required so much detritus and whatnots that it drove him mad. Yes, he had unfathomable strength, but that wasn’t an excuse to load him up with coolers and chairs and umbrellas like some bloody trolley.

Also sand.

If he ever had to resume running hell again, he was going to add sand in various crevices to the loops.

However, the Detective was a bona fide California girl who had grown up on the beach, and the urchin loved going to make sandcastles and other things. Usually, she’d do that rot with Mazikeen and Eve, but the women were off on a bounty in Salt Lake City, and so he had to entertain Beatrice instead of being allowed to have all his loving attention focused on the Detective in a bikini.

The only bright spot in the day so far was that this stretch of beach behind Penelope’s beach home was fairly private (even if not legally so) and such a quiet stretch allowed him to pass the day mostly unmolested from the unwashed masses.

However, right now, he’d been shunted off from his preferred position as a mix of sun cream reapplicator and, honestly, Detective gazer to helping the spawn with her latest sand masterpiece. Honestly, between the offspring’s drawings and her tendency to make fairly ornate (or at least not utter rubbish) sculptures out of sand, Lucifer suspected one day she’d deviate from her plans to study astronomy to go to Mars and instead, follow more artistic pursuits.

Bully for her. He adored art, but drawing had always eluded him, although he thought his pencil drawings had their charms. Line art could be chic, couldn’t it?

By now, he’d reluctantly left Chloe’s side and sat down after setting out his towel quite carefully---might as well try and keep that sand out of unmentionable places for himself, even if it was in vain---Lucifer reviewed what the urchin had crafted so far.

The serpent was impressive with a long body that easily spread over almost two feet, and its head was starting to take shape with a bit of an arched hood like a cobra. As he watched, Beatrice was working on carving out a diamond-shaped pattern to snake’s body, to make out the impression of scales. She was more adept at nearly thirteen at art than she had been at seven, and how odd was it to watch human and Nephilim (in Charlie’s case) children grow so fast.

Seriously, Father, how odd mortals were.

“That’s not bad work, urchin.” He was being honest. She was good for her age, but she wasn’t a master sculptor yet. After all, he’d posed for and, often, done more than his fair share of some of the greatest Renaissance carvers of all time. Besides, he never lied. “I’m not disappointed.”

“Maze would say it was kickass. Eve would really get her hands dirty helping me pile and wet the sand. You’re just watching!”

He smirked at her. “You’re sore that I didn’t sing your praises. As I’ve told you often, offspring, you’re tolerable for what you are, but just because you attempted a sculpture doesn’t make me obligated to heap adulation. You’ve room to grow and then some.”

“You really are the Devil.”

“I am. You’re adequate for now, and I never lie. However, I do like the hood touch and the cobra look. Why ever did you choose a snake for a sand creature, child? Usually, you’ve rendered porpoises and crabs, anything that fits on the beach. This truly does not.”

“I was thinking,” Beatrice said, and there was something heavy and pensive in her expression that Lucifer suddenly was dreading.

“What child?” he said, adjusting his hat over his head, trying to help angle the brim so that he’d stay covered. He would _not_ go into the precinct on Monday with a peeling nose and to Daniel’s laughter and mocking. “Have you an interest in herpetology now?”

“I don’t know what that is?”

“Have you abandoned that red planet of yours for snakes?”

She laughed and shook her head, even as Beatrice kept etching a diamond pattern into the snake’s body beside her. “No, but I was thinking a lot lately.”

“A dangerous pastime I’ve heard. If you want to relax more, you could think less. Seems to have done wonders for your father.”

“Lucifer!”

“Well, it’s not completely untrue. My brother over ponders. Makes a bloke miserable or a girl too, one supposes. So, offspring, why are you thinking about snakes?”

She stopped carving and regarded him with those overly large eyes of hers. “Last weekend I went to Mass with my abuelos cause Dad and I were visiting them. The priest talked about the Garden of Eden, which is kind of cool since I know Eve. I saw her when Mom had Tribe Night---this whole poker thing I _should_ be old enough to go to but after eight p.m. had to hang out only in my room---but anyway, she answered a lot of my questions.” She looked down at her hands. “But I’m still thinking about the whole thing. I…is it true that when you met Eve, you were a serpent?”

“Libelous tripe,” he said, rubbing at his nose and rolling his eyes a little when a thick coating of zinc came off on his fingers.

“What?”

“A rumor, nothing more. I’ve no special affinity for serpents. I don’t hate them, mind, but I’ve no connection to them more than any other animal, which, to be honest, I keep to a minimum because all of Father’s zoo create unfathomable amounts of mess.”

“So you can’t turn into a snake?”

Lucifer frowned and decided it best not to mention what he couldn’t control about himself to the urchin. As far as he knew, he couldn’t. But never underestimate a rather ruined subconscious and its powers either. Young Beatrice didn’t know about his Devilish side, even now, and he could barely understand the bloody self-actualization at any rate.

However, he’d never been the serpent in the garden, but he was hardly going to explain to the urchin that he’d been offering Eve _far more than an apple_ either.

“No, I cannot.”

“So, you can’t talk to snakes, either?”

“I’m not bloody Voldemort!”

Beatrice had the gall to smirk at him, and then the child actually booped him on the nose. “Good point. Voldemort didn’t have a nose, and yours is pretty obvious.”

“How dare you!”

“But Harry Potter could also talk to snakes.” She sat up on her haunches and practically bounced while looking up at him. “Can you even a little?”

“I speak every language known to man, and quite a few lost to humankind, as well as Enochian and Lilim.”

“I speak Lilim!”

He chuckled at that, not at all surprised that Maze’s tutelage had expanded beyond tracking skills and knife throwing. “Still, is none of that impressive enough for you?”

She shook her head. “So, no animals at all? Not even parrots maybe? They’re like halfway there.”

“No, urchin.”

She nodded and ran her hand along the edge of the serpent’s back. A few particles of sand slid down to the ground below, displaced by the movement. “Why did Mass talk about you that way then?”

“Oh, a host of reasons, child. My Father has mastered a great campaign against me and singing to, well, high heaven that I’m evil incarnate. Some days, I’m not sure if He’s even wrong. But I believe that in reality, humans also associated me with nasty beasties like bats and dragons too. Whatever was dark and cruel, of course. Snakes are an extension of that. It’s all an allegory.”

“A what?”

“A metaphor, have you any idea what that is?”

“Yeah, it’s when one thing stands in for another thing in a comparison. I’m in sixth grade. We have lit class, Lucifer.”

“Well, I’ve no idea what passes for curriculum these days in your horrid excuse for a child prison.”

“Also known as school.”

“Yes, well, as the world and, honestly, most of the family and Father Dearest decided eons ago that I was pure evil, any animal tied irrevocably to fear became tied to me.” He sighed and slipped off his hat. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s okay. Eve said it wasn’t even a real apple either!”

He made an undignified cough. Eve was free-spirited, sure, but she’d been a mother once and there was just something unseemly that sat oddly with him for any such prurient details being relayed to the spawn. She wasn’t his offspring---far from and thank Dad for at least one small favor; he abhorred children on principle---but still Even didn’t seem one to tell sex stories to a child. Even to a pre-teen.

“Yeah,” Beatrice explained, adding a few twists and coils to decorate the hood of the cobra. “She said that there weren’t apples in the garden so it was more like a fig. Something about it all being different types of Bibles and the words changed.”

Lucifer’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, the translations! Right, yes, well, it hadn’t been apples in the original texts. True, of course.”

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. There were some things he neither wanted to teach his girlfriend’s spawn nor wanted to think about himself. Good show on Eve for coming up for a true if not directly accurate explanation for the apple lore.

“Are you okay? You seemed really worried about the apple part more than the snake?”

“I’m quite alright,” he said, standing. “Now, take your pictures for your clout online, and then we’ll head back to your mum. If I remember correctly, the Douc…your father should be here at any moment to collect you for the evening, and I’ve plans to have a lovely picnic dinner with her on the sands.”

Beatrice had the audacity to roll her eyes at him. Seriously, she took after Mazikeen perhaps too much. “Meaning you want to make out, like a lot and without me.”

“Truth be told, I’ve packed an excellent charcuterie selection to match the wines I also brought.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Hence why you need to scram to your father now, urchin. The excellent cuisine would be wasted on the young.”

She stuck out her tongue and hopped up. Lucifer followed suit, his eyes lingering a bit too long over the cobra, and his memories wandering to a garden long ago and lost to the recesses of human history.

**

Lucifer blinked his eyes open blearily. The day on the beach after the Douche had taken the urchin away had led to a delightful evening picnic with the Detective, and better, the ability to convince her to get off the bloody beach and come with him to a place without a sun that hated him as well as sand that _still_ had managed to find its way to places only the most fortunate of Los Angeles had before. After a shower and, he’d be honest, straightening his hair back into a semblance of order, Lucifer had enjoyed some Netflix and chill with the Detective on the sofa at her mother’s place. However, while they’d explored each other’s bodies and mouths eagerly, like a couple of teenagers, he hadn’t quite…despite their last rendezvous, Lucifer wasn’t sure he was ready to try sex again.

He knew what the good doctor had advised him and what he and the Detective had already done together. It was just that pushing was hard sometimes, and it was easier---safer maybe---to pass the time pleasantly, if more chastely on the couch.

Eventually, they’d retired to bed, and he’d been asleep since.

Until now and with the angle of the sun peeking through the curtains of Chloe’s former room, Lucifer figured it was later than he’d have imagined. That was nice. The Detective tended to be up by six a.m. even on Saturdays. It was an ingrained habit in his workaholic partner, but it was better that she’d let herself indulge a bit more this morning. But it wasn’t the delightful smell of eggs and pancakes wafting up from the kitchen that was teasing his nose (and the rest of him) awake as much as the sounds.

Or, well, to be more accurate the vibrations around him. For some bloody reason, it felt like every clink of a Pyrex, slam of a pan on the burner, or even clack of egg against a bowl rim was loud enough to thrum against his body. As if every subtle sound reverberated down his spine and his limbs.

Pear-shaped that.

Lucifer sighed and noticed the way the sound caught low in his throat like a rumble. Oh, so it was one of _those_ days was it? He wasn’t even sure what his body or, more accurately, his mind had thought to do him of late, but it never failed to be creative in its projections. The Detective moved something off the stove it sounded like and another slam that wasn’t as she set plates maybe or the pan onto the island. He could feel it again, that vibration in his skin and bones.

She called up to him, voice as sweet and lovely as ever. “Hey, Lucifer, I know you used to be running a club till 5 a.m. but it’s getting close to noon. You hungry? I made brunch!”

Well, whatever his subconscious had managed this time, Lucifer would deal better with it if he faced it head on and with a full stomach. Pushing his weight onto his palms and at least his arms and what he could glimpse of his chest seemed normal. Hell, his nuisance of curly hair fell into his eyes in stray strands. So that wasn’t quite wrong.

But he never put it past his mind these days to be both cruel and Cronenbergian.

Lucifer pushed up from the mattress and tried to roll onto his back from his stomach. That was when he realized he couldn’t get purchase with his legs as he’d prefer. When he managed to flop heavily onto his back, he stared down at legs, which he’d feared had gone paralyzed.

What Lucifer hadn’t expected though, by now should have considering how easily it was to prime his own mind, was the long snake’s tail that met him at the junction of his hips. It was long and thickly coiled muscle, covered in a mix of jet black scales with the hint of a tan accent where his normal, humanish-like abdomen met the scales at the V of his hips. He tried to sit up and found he was flailing quite a bit. He could sit up but only so far like that and even then the long tip of his tail curled and uncurled as if on its own accord down off the mattress and from where it trailed onto the carpet below.

“Brilliant, bloody marvelous,” he said, and his brows shot up to his hair line when his tongue, thin, forked, and as obsidian as his scales, popped out and accented his hissing on that last word.

“Oh dear,” he said, his tone still sibilant.

Lucifer perked his head up, suddenly interested in so much. When he’d spoken to himself, flicked his tongue out, it was as if his sense of smell was upped to far more intense levels. It wasn’t just the batter he could smell or the hint of eggs frying on the pan. No, he smelled the whipped topping and chocolate chips the Detective had set out as well, the subtle notes of her floral perfume wafting up the stairs, even the hint of something else, something deeper and more primal that would have made his mouth water if that were apparently currently possible.

Determined to at least get out of bed in order to suss out how to amend this latest hiccup, Lucifer forced himself to roll back onto his stomach. It seemed easier to be there than on his back and, taking a deep breath, he arched his hips---or what was basically left of them---and forced his torso to rise from the bed. It was, he reckoned, akin to kneeling except there were no knees involved. However, it was easy enough to heft up his torso and head, to stay upright and bend his body in such a way that his tail from about a foot beneath the ends of his humanish abdomen was bending and coiling to bear his weight.

Arching his head around, he took in the view of his tail from this angle---long, coiled, and still a mix of mostly obsidian scales with tan highlights on the sides and up his belly. He let out a sigh and watched his tongue flick out again, pausing this time to flit in the air, and again he caught a deeper whiff of the Detective’s lilac and rose perfume.

 _Well, this is new_.

And not completely welcome because, to be rather blunt, while he was used to having no bollocks during the first time his mind had gone haywire in a subconscious transformation for the Detective, he was not used to nor _fond_ of the utter smoothness of his front. Fuck all if he knew how snakes reproduced but he was lacking something apparent that should have damn well been there and, again, fuck you too Father and all self-actualization games.

Taking in a deep breath, Lucifer tried to figure out how to actually move like this. Sitting up hadn’t been a chore per se, at least once he listened to his own instincts and found the comfort of starting stomach first. Feeling out with his hips, so to speak, he coiled up his tail and tried to push forward, which left him bumping his head against the headboard.

“Bollocks,” he cursed to himself, again but affronted and a bit riled by the length of his tongue as it hissed over the “s.”

Right then, best to avoid words with that letter if at all possible.

“Fuck,” he swore.

Then, he eyed his options. By gazing over his shoulder, he could evaluate the right side of Chloe’s bed that lined up near the door to her room. At least there wasn’t a lamp or a nightstand there. Good. Because he had no finesse in him with his newest appendage, and a long snake’s tail was clearly _not_ an even exchange for the loss of his legs and his most favored member.

Grumbling to himself, his voice a bit lower than usual, Lucifer took a deep breath, eased onto his belly and rolled over until he flopped onto the floor, angling his fall just enough to face forward toward the open bedroom door.

The thump of his frame on the ground was loud, and below the Detective called out to him:

“Lucifer? Are you okay?”

He shook his head even as he sat up (such as it was) and wriggled his tail. He was off the bed, upright, and ready to slither (seriously, his father was epically the worst) to his destination. He wasn’t sure he was very good at this or had much clue what he was doing but his experiment on the bed proved that he had the strength to go forward at least.

“Detective. I’m…not quite myself,” he admitted. He never lied, and she’d see soon enough. As variations went, it wasn’t probably much odder than the first time. At least no wheel barrows were needed, although he’d very much like to be through this serpentine nightmare and have his cock back, ta ever so. “Let me come down and explain.”

“I can come up…I…can you move?”

He rolled his eyes heavenward and wondered if Father was still on His walkabout or if this was a bloody sitcom that He was enjoying from His throne, celestial popcorn gripped tight. Lucifer wasn’t sure, but he didn’t put it past the old man either.

“I’m good, I think. Just bear with,” he said, rolling his shoulders and flexing his hips and then letting some curled up instinct in the back of his mind help will the tail forward.

It was smoother moving across the expanse of carpet and to the hall than he’d anticipated. With space to move, Lucifer’s body seemed to know what it wanted and how to locomote properly. It almost reminded him of the first time he’d ever taken to the air, after watching Amenadiel teach Michael and then training him, only a while after they’d both been created. Like breathing almost. He passed the doorway and angled his shoulders and his hips to the right, and then steadied himself for the parade of steps. Lucifer took a deep breath again and any anxiety he had was slowly dissipating not just because his tongue---odd appendage that---could _scent_ the lovely spread the Detective had cooked but because he could smell _her_ , and in a deeper way than he ever had before.

It was stirring something even more atavistic in him than the instinctive understanding of how to move in this form.

More or less, he should amend. After all, stairs had never been made for snakes, and his heavy body thudded with each step he took in sequence. When he turned the corner on the stairwell so that Chloe had a full view to him, Lucifer froze. Part of him, as always and as Linda said, expected her to reject him. On the other hand, and frankly on the far _larger_ hand, she smelled so bloody good that Lucifer barely cared about his own ego or feelings right now. If the Detective were up for trying their usual solution to his self-actualization dilemma, then he’d love to fuck her rotten right here and now.

Well, however he could figure it, but he had a tongue and fingers left to him. There were many things he could still accomplish with the Detective to please her, even if, again, he very much wanted both his legs and his cock back.

“Lucifer, that’s new,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow at him.

He noted this turn in their relationship. The first time she’d seen even his Devil face, she’d gone into shock. The second time, she’d been honest but screamed at him about her festering terror of him. Then, she’d been able to pull him back from himself and, now that he could look back on it in hindsight, had gazed on him with both pride and _hunger_ in The Mayan. But at the first of these odd trysts, as he was coming to think of them, she’d been eager to help but rattled. More in shock of how to help perhaps without dissolving _too often_ into giggles at the ridiculous situation-come-cosmic joke he’d found himself in.

Now, however, she’d been through this enough to regard him with curiosity and calm.

His heart swelled with joy at all of that even as his tongue scented the air again, and oh yes, there was that heavenly smell of her perfume in the air, of florals that tickled his nose of course, but there was something deeper too, something a bit musky yet delicate that called to him, and even as she adjusted her stance a little, Lucifer could tell how badly the Detective wanted him.

He smirked at her, feeling more confidence the more aroused he became. “Woke up like this. I suppose it’s actually your offspring’s fault, her and her ruddy cobra sand sculpture. I…she had some questions about the Garden of Eden. Apparently thinks I’m Voldemort.”

“Actually,” Chloe said, looking radiant in an old button-up of his, one last season enough that he could bear to part with it. The shirt came down to her mid-thigh, and the flash of creamy leg was enough to leave his tongue flickering a few times before he caught himself. “That would make you Nagini, the whole part snake thing.”

Lucifer puffed out his chest even as he bore the indignity of thumping his way down the last flight of steps to the kitchen. “I never read those stupid books.”

“Only watch truly stupid movies. _Body Bags_ really is awful.”

He smirked again, and now that he was near her and her scent was overpowering him, he reached out and stroked her cheek. “But _Hot Tub High School_ is still a bloody masterpiece, darling.”

“So, is this in the Bible exactly? I mean, I get the Garden of Eden part, and Eve has mentioned how it actually went down a little at Tribe Nights, but I figured snake like Garter snake, little thing, slithering through fields.”

“A narrow fellow in the grass, then?” he asked. “No, Chloe, I was never a snake literally, some translations have taken great and fanciful liberties. I’ve never done this before, but as we’re both learning, there is a first time for everything…at least with my mind.”

“You seem okay with it.”

“Well, I don’t relish doing this regularly, but I’ve been talking with Linda.”

“Have you?” she said, setting a palm over his hand. The warmth of her was exquisite and, until then, Lucifer hadn’t realized he’d felt cold. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re working on processing all the self-actualization. You know I don’t care.”

“And I don’t as much now.” He quirked his head at her and regarded her solemnly. “At least not in this form, but, moreover, I promised the good doctor that I would try to enjoy this for all that it is, to let me work through any issue my subconscious is rolling through at the moment.” He leaned down and flicked his tongue out, tasting the air and then, eventually, the sweet delicacy of her skin. “In fact, all I can think about, Detective, is making you scream.”

The Detective frowned at him and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Sorry, Mom-instincts. I don’t know what I was exactly thinking. You’re always like a furnace anyway, although honestly, you’re a little chilly. I mean,” she blushed clearly thinking of their earlier tryst in the evidence locker, “you’re not icy.”

“I’m afraid no snowflakes,” he said, his altered tongue tripping over the sibilant syllables easily. It stuck out at the end, flitting about to taste the air some more, and he reveled in the Detective’s scent, in _knowing_ how eager for him she was too.

Her eyes widened again. “Oh, definitely new.”

Emboldened, Lucifer lifted his tail and wrapped the back of it around her shoulders, pushing her to him a bit, cradling her against his chest with its length. “Very.”

He leaned closer and shot his tongue out again, teasing the edge of her earlobe. She shuddered under him and gave that giggle-snort of hers that Chloe tended to pretend she _didn’t_ do even when she always fell into it eventually.

“Detective, I’d very much like it if you’d join me for something amorous.”

She smirked at him and ran her hands down the expanse of his chest and frowned a bit when she came to the border where scales transitioned into tawny skin. “Okay, I’m going to need a score card for everything your subconscious comes up with because um---”

He tickled her ear again. “Yes, well, always _some_ trade-offs in this current form, although perhaps not limitations. I’ve plenty of ideas to make you come hard with my name on your lips, Chloe, have no doubt of that.”

She swallowed, and he could scent her arousal so thick in the air now, at least to him, that its smell overwhelmed the pancakes and eggs near them, even her perfume. “You’re kind of big.”

“Well, broad currently in a manner of speaking.”

“No,” she said, slapping playfully at his shoulder. “You’re not going to fit in the bed with me upstairs and I can kind of manage to shove over the sleeper sofa but be real. I can’t think of anywhere to make the logistics of that idea work.”

Lucifer ran his palms up and over the Detective’s sides, he knew exactly where to put the right pressure to make her giggle. If he tickled just hard enough under her left lowest rib, he’d elicit a riot of snorts as well. But that wasn’t his aim, as he just wanted to weaken her resilience. “Well, love, I bet the beach has ample space.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “There aren’t private beaches in California.”

“But this area by your mum’s is quiet as a tomb, Detective. We were out half the bloody day on a Saturday no less with the urchin, and we saw maybe two septuagenarians walking their basset hound at sunset when we were packing up. I would be anything we’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“I don’t know if I want some random neighbor of my mom’s to sneak up on me while I’m in an intimate situation.”

He ran his hands up further and cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of his used shirt. She moaned a little despite her resolve. “Detective, I think that if any soul came upon us on the beach that they’d hardly remember you at all. Far more likely the poor sod would run off screaming about naga and forget your lovely backside had ever been featured by the surf at all.”

“A what?”

“Not exactly…type of Indian snake deity, a different pantheon. However, that’s about an approximation for what my subconscious has chosen to do this time.”

She arched an eyebrow at him even as the coiled muscle of his tail wrapped a tighter to caress around said bum. “So, you’re branching out?”  
  


“No bloody clue. Still think it’s mostly running with too many thoughts over Eden and the slander my father so loves to spread. However, Detective, I promise I’ll be on alert if anyone comes near, and if they do, no one will _focus_ on your lovely wares. Even if they did, no soul would ever believe them.” He gave her his most devastating grin, a smug smirk that he’d favored her with earlier in their partnership. “Besides, I thought you were all about embracing temptation of late.”

“You really are the Devil.”

“But of course.”

**

Getting out the beach had been problematic. The bumps of the long and seemingly endless set of steps down to the sands an unpleasant gauntlet, but once on the sand his tail and muscled had reacted with as much instinctive ease as, long ago, his wings had back in the Silver City and for his first flights. Truth be told, he’d had to slow down for the Detective, who was struggling with the picnic blanket and the umbrella, as if _that_ would block a view of him from any hapless fool who chanced upon them mid-coitus. However, she sank easily into the sand, so he offered to take her things, a dutiful Sherpa as always, and they finally made their way to a patch of beach not far from where Beatrice’s half washed away serpent still stood out in the sand.

Chloe set the blanket out and shimmied out of her beach cover up and down to her bikini. Nothing overtly daring. Just purple and white polka dots and, like her suit in the hot tub, would be pedestrian on any other woman. But the Detective was special, and everything seemed to suit her figure or, he could admit it, for a lovesick fool like him, everything she wore, even her sensible brown work wardrobe enticed him.

She set up the umbrella next and set her sunglasses aside. “I can’t believe you are talking me into this.”

“Did it take _that_ much talking, darling?” he asked, trying to ignore the myriad of scents overwhelming him at the ocean from the salt to the foam of the sea to the fresh air all around. It was far more input than he was used to and far more to take in like this than at her mum’s place. “I seemed to find you ready enough for some more temptation.”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear if someone finds me and I get on social media somehow ass first...”

He let his eyes flash red a moment. “I promise, Detective,” the low hiss evident in his voice as he spoke, “I would never let any ne’er-do-well get away with an invasion of your privacy like that. Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?”

She rummaged through the bag she’d slid off her shoulder and flung the bottle of sunscreen at him. “I thought I qualified by bedding Satan himself. Now because I’m scared to try public sex---”

“Quietest beach out here,” he pointed out, throwing his arm wide to show the vast expanse of jack and shit around them. “Besides, admit it, love,” he said, yanking the bottle out of the air and slithering over to her. “I make your life anything but boring.”

“That’s a way to put it,” she said, her tone annoyed and pointed, but her radiant smile betraying her actual mood. “Just make sure you cover me up. I don’t need to add sunburn to probably making myself into a Twitter hashtag.”

“Would that be **#SnakeSex** or **#SatanicSensuality**?” he teased, leaning low to rub the lotion over her shoulders and back as she lay on her stomach for him. Chloe wasn’t wrong about the sun, and he didn’t want her wrath if she fried to a crisp. For now, he seemed far less bothered by the sun than usual in her presence and that was good enough for him. “Perhaps it would catch on!”

“No,” she mumbled. “It would end up like **#IdiotNakedCouple** or **#HotTubRedux**.”

“Don’t tempt me then, Detective, although considering the form,” he said, slithering back a little to have the correct angle to rub lotion on her thighs. “perhaps **#MonsterFucker** would be applicable.”

“First, you’re not, and ugh second, that would make my mom so proud.”

He frowned at that a little. “Yes, well then if the Vampire Queen approves, it must be a smashing idea.”

“Hardly,” Chloe replied and rolled onto her back. “Stomach and front?”

“Oh, I’ve ideas for the front,” he replied, getting low as he could and working his way first up her legs and the flat expanses of her stomach. Finally, he got to the bikini top and reached back behind her neck to untie at the straps. “This needs to go, love.”

“I was---”

“It’s going to go eventually anyway, and of all the unmentionables you wouldn’t want to burn, this has to rank top of the list.”

She considered that and nodded. “Okay, but you swear no one is coming.”

Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment and flicked his tongue out, and all he was greeted with was the sea and various smells of marine life there. As he concentrated harder, he found that there was no vibration coming through the sand beneath him either, no footsteps on the beach in miles of either of them.

“We’re good, Detective. No need to be bashful. You’re quite lovely.”

“I swear if I make the internet---”

“Well, you’re already on streaming for that delightful film of yours.”

She let him untie the knot in her bikini top but shot him a death glare the likes of which would make Maze impressed. “Mentioning _Hot Tub High School_ is so not the way to help you.”

“Duly noted,” he said, grinning at her and those aforementioned assets that once, for a passing moment, had made Chloe famous. “Well,” he added, pouring cream into his palms and reaching for her breasts. “no time like the present, Detective.”

His tongue flicked out again and the scent of the suntan lotion nearly bowled him over. What had once been a faint hint of coconut suddenly felt as strong as being stranded among palm trees in Bali. Lucifer shook his head and chuckled wryly. No, they wouldn’t want to burn those. Agreed.

He started his ministrations in earnest, spreading the lotion dutifully over her breasts, enjoying the heft of them in his palms, before smoothing the last vestiges of it over her nipples. The Devil took his time to massage carefully there, rubbing slowly in circles until the Detective’s nipples were peaked and hard beneath his thumb. Then he continued, caressing both as he leaned low enough to kiss and nibble at the skin of Chloe’s neck and at the hollow of her throat.

She arched her hips up when he bit just a bit at the skin of her clavicle, threatening to draw up a hint of a bruise there. Then Chloe mewled a little, realizing the slightly different angles for everything to accommodate his tail and his overall bulk. He was laid out to her left side because, honestly, if he were atop her, he might crush her.

“Not enough.”

“Aren’t we impatient?”

“You talk too much,” she replied, cracking an eye open.

“I thought you were worried about getting caught out here, darling?” he said, letting his tongue flick and flutter against the hollow of her throat again, its forked tip feather light over her skin yet tickling enough to clearly drive her wild as she bucked up her hips again.

“Don’t care now.”

“Oh, well, I’ll see what I can do about that,” he said, and then had some mercy on his detective by slithering backwards and angling his head so that his mouth hovered over her right nipple.

He winked at her and removed his palm before cupping his mouth over her right breast. Lucifer breathed out at first, just letting the coolness of his breath (currently) raise her nipple into an even more rigid peak. Then he ran just the hint of shallow fang over the tip. Not even a graze, just enough to let her feel the pressure of it before she shivered as his hands, one on her side and the other kneading her left breast, felt the gooseflesh spread over her skin.

Then, Lucifer switched to tongue, first circling over the circumference of her areola with the skill only a tongue as lithe and thin as his could muster.

Before him Chloe moaned and mewled and made quite a host of filthy noises he’d had an inkling of in the hot tub at _Lux_ but had never heard quite like this. A small part of him not carried away by the heady scent of arousal or, apparently, the needs of the naga life he was currently living would shove that away as another point that Chloe Decker really was quite the teratophilic. But for now, he was having too much of a good time to give a toss.

Mostly.

Lucifer moved his neck again, finding the right bit of purchase, and flicked his tongue over the tip of her nipple, the edges of each side of the fork fluttering over the pebbled skin there delicately. At first. She moaned and bucked again, and he took some pity on her and moved his left hand lower, trailing over her hips and then to her bikini bottom. Frustrated by the fabric and in no mood to fuck with it and take his mouth away from her spectacular tits, Lucifer just settled for snapping the fabric holding its side together. He peeled the polka dotted monstrosity down and away from her entrance even as she half-heartedly objected to its ruination. Then, he traced his hand through her soft curls. Soon enough, his left thumb found its way through her folds and pressed tightly against her clit.

She hissed at just that much contact and lifted her hips up to meet him. Oh, his detective clearly could care less if every member of the paparazzi wandered in on them at this moment. And Lucifer loved this exhibitionist side to her. Even as his thumb pressed hard against her clit and rubbed it forcefully in counterclockwise circles, his tongue was flicking faster now, and he moved his neck back, so that he could enjoy watching her. Lucifer studied the way her eyelids clamped closer and her face wrinkled up at such pleasure even as his long tongue shot out and lapped at her nipple, even as his opposite hand kept kneading and teasing her breast.

Lucifer kept his weight balanced between his tail and the bent elbow beside her ribs. But he thought he might…oh, yes, there. He was able to move his hand away from her breast, even as she whimpered her disapproval, and rest it on the side by the sand. Occasionally, he’d let his long fingers stroke the side of her breast and her ribs, knowing that the detective was overloading on sensation between the twin experiences of being tickled and being brought to the cusp of climax with his thumb. However, he never quite let her come, not yet.

He had other plans for her.

He finally tore his attention away from pleasuring both her nipples and almost laughed when she grabbed frantically for his blasted curls (no hope of product working in the summer humidity) as he moved from her chest and slicked his tongue over her belly, teasing a few long flicks against her belly button before finally slithering back into place to meet his mouth with her delicious pussy.

Lucifer shimmied a bit, adjusting his frame and his tail so that he had the best angle to move from tempting her with his left hand to tempting her with his tongue, cunning linguist as he usually was. As he lay prostrate before her, he spared a glance up once more to Chloe’s face. Annoyed blue eyes regarded his own, their lack of patience giving them a glacial sheen.

“You can’t stop now!”

“I’m not, just changing it up, Detective.” He said, “I promisssse that you’ll thank me. You’re bloody beautiful when you’re desperate to come.”

“I’m also dangerous,” she replied, nudging him with her foot. “And you’re mortalish, so keep that in mind.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he hissed before diving in.

Lucifer drew his face close to her folds and then nuzzled at them a little, already appreciating how wet she was. His tongue darted out and he had been planning to lave at her labia, give them all the attention he’d so far lavished on her breasts when the strange alterations in his own anatomy caught him off guard. His tongue out like that, _here_ , told him so many things about Chloe besides even the obvious like how bloody horny she was (join the club). He could smell such subtle things it was like reading her mind---the stress she’d been under that she clearly hadn’t been sharing about work, the need she’d been feeling on her own behalf since they hadn’t had an experience like this since the hot tub several weeks ago, and even her own exhilaration and desperation for him.

For _specifically_ him.

Pheromones, maybe?

As if he’d sodding know. His brother was the scholar. Lucifer was just…he was overwhelmed, and it helped in a way because while the Detective could and had lied to him the past, she couldn’t hide how much she wanted him now.

It would have made him salivate if he currently worked that way but instead it made something akin to a low, guttural hiss rise in his throat.

She was _his_. At least for the day, the Detective was so undoubtedly his.

Lucifer plunged forward then and licked and teased and fluttered his tongue against her folds, even as his hands reached up as best they could to grab at her backside and squeeze it tight. Chloe seemed to understand and share that hunger along with him and scooted against the blanket downward and opened her hips legs up wider. He moved further into her core, his nose resting against her clit even as he let his tongue dart out and taste her inner channel, lapping eagerly at its sides.

She wriggled and grinded her pussy into his face, and he got it, truly he did, but tasting her like this…some of the sweetest ambrosia from deities of the other pantheons had _nothing_ on pure Chloe Decker arousal. But he also had a lady to please, and Lucifer never left a bed partner unfulfilled.

Pulling back just enough to latch his lips around her clit and then shoot out his tongue, caressing and teasing, flicking and fluttering, tantalizing her with movements so fast and determined that even _he_ couldn’t trace all the ways he was moving. It was a mix of utter need and blind instinct driving him, but all he craved was to grab her hips close to him, to feel the softness of her bum gripped in his palms even as his tongue tasted her and flared up against her over and over again.

Chloe was screaming then, and he could feel the vibrations of that through the sand, spreading up over his sides and his spine. It was one of those new things for the day, but it drove him mad, drove him harder to lave at her until the Detective shoved her heels hard into the sand and came, screaming his name and shuddering against the ground.

It was several long minutes before she fully stilled, and he took the moment as a chance to slither back through the sand and appraise her state. “Are you quite alright, Detective? Do you remember whose president and what day it is? I didn’t actually fuck your brains out, did I?”

“Shut up,” Chloe said, before bursting into a fit of giggle-snorts that were as threatening as a newborn kitten.

He was still sat over his tail, his torso held high on the left edge of the blanket, and not quite sure the best approach for post-coital curling up. “Mhm…”

She frowned up at him, seeming to get more coherence into her by the minute. “Are you okay? I figured---”

“Takes time sometimes, and believe me, Chloe, I was far more than satisfied with getting you off. The taste of you alone was sublime.” He highlighted his point by wiping off his lips with the back of his arm and smirking at the pink blush coloring Chloe’s neck. “I just can’t decide how best to curl up.”

She sat up and much to his misery slipped her top back on and tried to make do by slipping the torn scrap that had once been the bottoms on as well, at least laying them over her mons for modesty sake. Of course, if any stray beachgoer came upon them, Lucifer was pretty sure the concern would be with the sort-of naga curled around her and very little for the naked ex-movie star.

Maybe.

It was L.A., people were exceptionally weird with what they focused on most here.

“You should do whatever makes you the most comfortable,” she said.

“Alright then, love, do you mind terribly sitting up a minute? Just sit cross-legged if you like or however is comfortable.”

She frowned but did as asked. Then he circled around her, letting the length of his tail coil lightly about her legs and torso until it was wrapped around her protectively. His own torso was still held high on the muscles of his tail and hips and it gave him a good angle to keep a look out on the beach for any unneeded intrusions.

The Detective chuckled and leaned her head against his scales. “This isn’t exactly the most comfortable position.”

“Is for me for now, and I’m keeping a look out for a ne’er-do-well beachgoer!”

She shook her head and looked up at him, eyes bright and full of interest. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Oh, I’d say a mix of the view and the great orgasms should do it.”

She nodded and pointed to her lips; he obliged by leaning down to kiss them, letting his tongue flick out and promise her many things if she should recover enough for a second round. “Maybe, maybe it’s the orgasms.”

“Damn well better be. You won’t get anyone better than me, Detective. Promissse that,” he hissed.

Chloe nodded. “Trust me, I already learned that the hard way.”

He eased a bit and let himself relax, keeping his sentry post and listening to the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. “Besides, I much prefer the beach this way. See if sand finds any bloody cracks to hide in this time.”

“Oh, you say that now, but sand always finds away.”

And damn if, eventually, the Detective wasn’t right about that much, and he _really_ had to add more of it to the hell loops someday. After all, sand was far more diabolical than he’d ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Naga-like images - https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://pm1.narvii.com/6593/bf31937ac7819b599bea5e8fa1fd447bcb227c34_00.jpg&imgrefurl=https://aminoapps.com/c/homeoflove/page/blog/naga-x-human-rp/xp27_XJ1C2u3rbPe41bM1bB0ppME4NjV7Dj&tbnid=3TMSxa9TOmhbzM&vet=1&docid=mCyGUcRjlRdOCM&w=296&h=299&q=naga+snake+human&source=sh/x/im


	4. Nothing like the Odyssey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe tries to avoid Maze's pointed questions about Lucifer's strange behavior lately, and a night at Lux watching Lucifer perform leads to a wild time back at the penthouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to FH sprinting buddies, especially Azure, who did a lot of rounds with me on this. Also, shoutout to elleflies who told me a bit more about birds, which I probably butchered for artistic license but she was helpful!
> 
> Also, one commenter asked about if Chloe would self-actualize or even dream about it in this fic, and she won't. However, if you want to see a fic from a great author starting out from that premise, then Vrael/Brokenjaw's "Civil Serpent" would be up your alley - https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850951

**Monstrare Chapter 4**

Sometimes Chloe preferred when Tribe Night started to peter out. Don’t get her wrong, she enjoyed all the women she hung out with, including Jeanine a newer detective at the precinct who had become fast friends with Ella and actually was good at tempering Dan when he got into moods (usually about people stealing his pudding and if he’d just keep it at his desk…). But the night at the Tiki bar had grown long and Ella and Jeanine had filtered out, and Chloe secretly had high hopes for those two. Ella was definitely, much to Chloe’s misfortune, into arms and Jeanine was an archer as a side hobby and had a set of guns on her that would befit the average action star heroine. Eve hadn’t been able to stay as long as Maze had because she’d had a photoshoot to prep for a client that was scheduled early in the morning near La Brea. Even Linda had finally tapped out, citing the fact that even with Amenadiel as a generous father, who liked night duty, she needed to be home before midnight.

Since Dan had Trixie for the weekend and her Devil was busy with a production wrap party being hosted at _Lux_ , that left her and Maze sharing shot of Tequila.

At least Chloe thought it was Tequila. She was pretty fuzzy by now so she was mostly sure they hadn’t switched to Vodka. Then again, after even four shots, Chloe tended to cloud over. She’d never been good at holding her liquor. Evne now and with the chance to have all she wanted from _Lux’s_ top shelf, Chloe hadn’t quite been able to get a tolerance up. That said, she loved how the probably Tequila felt as it burned down her throat and made goosebumps erupt over her skin.

Maze was watching her with an unerring gaze though, and that diminished the warmth of her fifth (most likely fifth) shot. “Decker, now that the sorority broke up, you gonna tell me what’s really going on?”

She blinked and tried to play innocent, but even she could feel warmth building up on her cheeks. Maybe she could play it off as being tipsy. Then again, it was almost as hard to lie to Hell’s best torturer as it was to its King.

“I don’t know what you mean, Maze.”

The demon pulled out her Swiss army knife and started flicking the blade open and closed. “Okay, if you want to play it that way, we can do that.”

“Play what? We were talking about you and Charlie-sitting before most of the girls left and---”

Maze shook her head. “So, I should let you know that Trixie has a big mouth.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide. Trixie had come back to the beach house a few weeks ago earlier than expected because she’d left the antibiotics for a tooth infection in her room. She and Dan had made it all the way to his place before having to drive back. It had bought some time, at least enough that when they arrived, Lucifer had calmed down enough to be himself. Not quite enough time to do more than try and shove the discarded snake skin of his former tail (no she had no idea how any of this worked, and she doubted Lucifer did either) into the first floor bathroom.

Which Trix had stumbled into.

It had forced Chloe to explain things the next time Trixie was home for the school week, and she’d left it vague at Lucifer having the ability to change more than his face, like Maze could do. Thank the universe for small favors that Trixie was not quite as impulsive at almost twelve as she had been at seven, but apparently the _only_ reason her daughter hadn’t peppered her or, worse yet, Lucifer with a million serpentine questions was because she’d clearly been grilling Maze instead.

“What did she say?” Chloe asked, drumming her fingernails on the table and trying to pretend that she wasn’t nervous about all of this.

“Oh, she was on me all day when I was at the precinct last, dropping off a bounty. She was all ‘Maze you’re holding out on me’ this and ‘Can you make yourself a snake too’ that. Imagine my surprise when she explained about Lucifer since I know for a fact _that_ never happened in Hell.” Maze shrugged and drained another two shots of Tequila in quick succession and bit into a lime to chase down her troubles. “Then again, until The Mayan, Lucifer couldn’t go all Dark Lord with bat wings either. So, spill.”

Chloe wasn’t sure how to even start. First, Lucifer would probably be annoyed and complain that Maze knew at all. Those two had a complex relationship that Chloe couldn’t quite understand. She wasn’t sure that Maze and Lucifer could explain it wholly either. Clearly, once long ago, she’d been his protector in Hell and his right hand. Then, his most trusted demon here. But they’d been on several cycles of betrayal and forgiveness over the years in L.A., and as much as Maze loved helping out with Charlie and adored Eve, Chloe was still certain the demon had been hurt that Lucifer had returned to Hell without even asking her to join him.

And through all of that, Maze tended to have the best read on Lucifer’s moods, to understand in some ways what drove him and twisted him up in knots even more than Linda. Of all of their crazy menagerie of friends and associates, Maze would seem like the logical choice for Lucifer to confide in. Well, outside of his therapist. But Lucifer clearly hadn’t, and Chloe didn’t want to betray his trust or his own insecurities about self-actualization to Maze.

“Decker? I mean, I have eternity, but you don’t,” Maze said, sucking on a second lime for fun apparently. “Look, I’ll add what I know. Lucifer obviously can control his glamor stuff way more than I can. I just dabble to keep my face covered. But Lucifer’s upped his game to getting his inner cryptid on. That’s…not what I expected from him.”

Chloe sighed. “Well, it’s not exactly like he’s controlling it. I mean, the full Devil---”

“Minus those horns, you must be so disappointed.”

Chloe reached for closest glass of water and chugged it down. It was suddenly getting hot in here. “Hey! No, and that time you watched me dream and I was doing that weird hand move…it was _not_ about the horns.”

Maze arched a scarred eyebrow at her. “Sure, Decker, I’ll buy that. So the Lord of Hell look he can slip on and off, gotcha. Definitely would have helped back in home sweet home. Without me and on his own to stop demon uprising, Lucifer would have needed every trick he could get.”

“Yes, but sometimes…it’s a bit of hiccups?”

“Huh?”

“Not literally. I mean not like he drinks to fast, hiccups, and boom! Snake.”

Maze chuckled and gestured for a waiter in a bright pink Hawaiian themed shirt to come over. While Chloe waited, the demon ordered them a pitcher of sangria and cheese sticks and then turned back to her. “I got something a bit lighter so you don’t pass on out, Chloe. Last thing I want is to fireman carry you to my car.” She shrugged. “Well, let me correct that. You have a great ass so before Eve and trying the monogamy thing, I wouldn’t have minded any excuse to get my hands on you. However, a bit of that fruitier crap or wine…whatever…and you should at least sober up a little.”

“Thanks, Maze.”

“Yup, so now Lucifer is accidentally turning into a Naga?”

“Uh, it varies. That was a first time.”

Chloe did not point out there had been a second in the penthouse a week ago and just how amazingly inventive a snake tongue could be _or_ that she was being spoiled in the oddest way by hemipenises. Maze would never let Lucifer live that down, and it honestly wasn’t completely Chloe’s secret to tell.

Just a hell of a memory on long nights at her apartment when she had worked too late and Lucifer had been stuck at _Lux_ headlining.

Maze’s expression changed from coy to severe, her frown causing her forehead to wrinkle up just so. “He’s not my king or my problem, specifically anymore. If anything, I’ve got a full plate with Eve to keep an eye on but also the fealty I’ve sworn to keep Charlie safe. I mean, add in teaching the not-so-little-human knife throwing and----”

“You’re teaching my kid to throw knives?”

“Yeah, just human ones. No demon daggers, even if Trix has begged me a lot lately for that. Those things? Crazy sharp. Anyway, I’m busy, and I’m not his bodyguard, but I can’t say I’m completely relaxed about this either. I know Lucifer, and if he hasn’t done anything like this in the eons I’ve known him…for it to just start up is a big deal.”

Maze looked around the bar that was pretty thinly filled on most nights (a big plus for coming here for girl talk), and by now was basically a ghost town. Seemingly satisfied, Maze flashed her own face to Chloe.

It was fast but enough for her to notice it, to see the milky eye, the rotted flesh, and the maggots wriggling in half of Maze’s expression. Chloe didn’t wince, although she’d be lying if her throat hadn’t gone dry at the sight. Even now, somehow, it was so easy to forget who Lucifer and Maze truly were. Perhaps it was something Chloe didn’t like to think about, and not because she was scared. She wasn’t, no more than a normal human instinct that she stomped down at a new quirk or sight. It was more that the truth was Maze and Lucifer belonged in Hell. It was her home and his responsibility. Being reminded of that sucked because, for now, Lucifer’s siblings had his duties covered. Eventually though, she’d pass onto the Silver City, and Lucifer would feel compelled to go back to his kingdom.

She hated to think of him alone there forever, in a place he loathed, and where she could no longer reach him.

So yeah, the Infernal hurt, but mostly more _for him_ than for any other reason.

“I know,” Chloe said, gratefully grabbing up the pitcher when the bright red sangria arrived at their table. She poured a glass for herself and a second for the demon, who declined, instead opting to focus on the cheese sticks. “It doesn’t bother me at all, but since he got back from Hell…when he gets worked up…” she blushed, again and realized how that sounded. “I mean, when he’s upset about something, he has the hiccups.”

“So more than just Naga?”

  
“More variations on the very Devil-y thing,” she admitted, learning to speak in half-truths finally after living with the master of them.

“Mhm,” Maze chomped into another mozzarella stick and a bit of white goo fell to the cheap laminate of the table. “So, yeah, that worries me.”

“Look the full Devil and the, uh, snake stuff, well, it’s like when Amenadiel made his wings rot off and his ability to stop time never came back.”  
  


“Yeah, but man if that shit’s not still heritable. Charlie’s already doing it a tiny bit.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide. “What the…really?”

Maze nodded and finally poured herself some sangria. “Oh, yeah. Linda can’t tell the difference, but I was with her when she was trying to get him into strained peas, which let me just say demons never thought of the kind of torture of force feeding mushed foods before,” she said. “Anyway, time stuttered for maybe three seconds. Linda stilled and then boom everything continued. Man, that Nephilim is gonna be a handful when he’s a teenager, I’m calling it.”

Chloe swallowed and decided just to be glad that Trixie was getting lessons from Maze but wasn’t actually mystical in any way. She was also relieved, as perhaps petty as it sounded, that she still took birth control on the extreme off chance she and Lucifer could conceive. Having a half-angel child sounded like a headache. To have, uh, the antichrist was something neither she nor Lucifer wanted.

Stopping time.

Man that really would be a pain with a snippy fifteen year old.

“But yeah,” Chloe added, fishing a bit of cut pineapple from her glass. “it’s an adjustment. He seems actually kind of perky about it right now. He calls it exploring the preternatural options. I’m not sure I like the 180. When it started, he was very upset. Now, he’s decided to embrace it---which is good---but he’s been so enthused about it, that I worry he might have---”

“Swung the entire other way into denial?”

“I hope not. He’s working with Linda through it, because of course it plays with his mind and self-esteem, but I just am not sure the best way to support him.” Chloe emphasized her point by shoving the sweet chunk into her mouth and letting the mix of red wine and citrus sour wash over her tongue.

Maze snorted. “Look, I’m also going to cut to the chase, Decker, because despite not having to, I do worry. I am not an idiot. I’m sure exactly what kind of thing stresses him out the most with you, especially after you went to Rome.”

“That was not my best moment, and we’ve talked about it.”

Maze narrowed her eyes at her. “I’m not here to hash that out for him. We’re cool. I can still hang with the little human, and you helped me track down Dromos. You weren’t a bad drinking buddy during those long, crap months when Eve was off finding herself. That said, don’t bullshit me. I know it’s about sex, and that he’s nervous about it with you for whatever odd reason. The snake stuff _didn’t_ happen cause he was scared about getting hurt on the job or Dan would have seen it or the rest of the LAPD. It didn’t even happen around your mom’s beach house till Trix was gone, which totally means boning time.”

“Thanks, Maze, that’s a really delicate way to say that.”  
  


Maze shrugged and dipped one of her remaining cheese sticks into her marinara sauce. “I’m a good bounty hunter because I can think like my prey. I don’t even have to do that imaging to know Lucifer. He and I were a package deal for a long ass time, and I still can read him well in a battle when it’s called for. To be honest, it’s how I knew the best way to play him with Cain around.”

Chloe glared back at her. “Not great, Maze. You never apologized for shoving me to a murderer!”

“I am sorry,” she admitted. “I messed up. I was fucked in the head, dealing with feelings and emotions I’d never had before, and I did the wrong thing. I shouldn’t have.”

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Maze was silent for a while, sipping the fruity drink to chase down her snack and then carefully studying the carved limerick on the table (and just what was that girl “Laurel” good at) instead of her. “I really am sorry. I did it so wrong. I never thought that Cain would have tried to kill you. I though the wanted to end his curse, die, and I’d get Lucifer to take me home. I wasn’t trying to get you or Dan hurt. Or Charlotte.”

Chloe sighed and set her glass down. “After Kinley played me, I can understand betraying people, to letting fear and anger and so many things overrun you. I never thought I’d do that.”

“And that’s my point, Decker. Lucifer’s biggest trigger used to be all his Daddy issues. But that’s not it, at least not really.”

“Oh, he curses his Dad out all the time, which, honestly, God does sound like a dick.”

“Never met him, but I figure he’s a universe-class asshole, yeah,” Maze looked up from the table and made eye contact with her again, but still seemed to be relieving nervous energy by playing with her knife again. “Lucifer used to be the most upset with his dad manipulating him and taking his free will. Now, he’s totally scared shitless he’ll lose you.”  
  


“He never would!”

“Yeah, but dude’s been rejected from his family and from you at least once, so I’m not surprised some super deep-seated pound town angst is driving the transformation stuff.” Maze shook her head. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say more about it, and I won’t tell him. That is not a mope I want to hear or worse, a fight I want to pick. Usually? I can kick Lucifer’s ass to a draw. When he goes all Hulk? I don’t exactly love my odds.”

Chloe pursed her lips at the demon but let her continue.

“Oh, and the little human, I won’t be telling her more than ‘oh yeah, you know the Devil is full of tricks.’”

“Can you also add _not_ training her in deadly weapons?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve started with the nunchuks yet!”

Chloe blinked and almost coughed up her wine. “What? No, I am drawing the line at ninja training.”

Maze shrugged. “Fine, I’ll just start wearing only snake skin clothing around Lucifer.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“See if I’d stop training Trix to take care of herself. I mean, kid’s been abducted twice and she’s not even a teenager. You should be so glad that I’m training her in knives. Besides, I wouldn’t do nunchucks. Be real.”

“Well that’s something,” Chloe replied, taking a final sip of her wine.

Maze grinned. “That kid? She’s gonna learn on a katana.”

In retrospect, Chloe was probably lucky Hell’s most infamous torturer didn’t attack her for accidentally spitting a mouthful of sangria all over her.

**

It amazed her how much a girl could get used to, and for once, Chloe’s thought didn’t have anything to do with dating the Devil or the unusual hiccups that came with it. It was more that when she’d first met Lucifer, she’d found him insufferably smug, a king lording over an overpriced, tourist trap of a night club, one that was too loud and too crowded for her to want to deal with more than she absolutely had to outside of questioning about Delilah. Granted, the piano front and center in the floor plan had seemed odd even then. What little she’d known about the club scene about fifteen years prior to their first meeting, back when she’d been on the cusp of stardom for very embarrassing reasons, well, Chloe hadn’t seen any of the hot spots with baby grands.

They certainly didn’t headline _The Viper Room_.

However, the first few times she’d come to _Lux_ , it had felt like too much of everything---too many bodies writhing on the floor, too much bass pumping through her head, and too many douchebags willing to hit on her. Okay, so like the third time at _Lux_ , the creep factor had been more her own fault or, more accurately, the fault of the men working Carver’s joke of a system coming onto her. That and the dress that had, at least, not given her an STD, but that she was still sure had to have originated from one of the more questionable of Lucifer’s guest.

Just like her to end up in Brittany-wear.

But now, she was comfortable with many of her varying roles---mom, detective with a close rate that one day might actually put her in line after even her besmirched record for lieutenant, and the love of Lucifer Morningstar’s life. Chloe was hardly Queen of Hell, and he’d never ask that of her, but over the last eight months or so since his return, she _had_ settled into her job as supportive girlfriend and chief fan of the star of the club.

So, even though her wardrobe was still filled mostly with sensible work clothes, rife with tan slacks, dark jackets, and shoes that both her boyfriend and her mother had decried were crimes against fashion (and Chloe did have to agree but they were comfortable and easy to sprint in as needs dictated), it now had its share of clubbing wear. Some she even bought herself. And a few pieces hung in Lucifer’s closet because they’d been _ambitious_ to say the least and the scraps of not-quite-dresses he’d gifted her had been sweet in a Luciferian way, but so not her. Not even now.

Last thing she’d need was to show up on Instagram or even on the club’s Facebook page in a dress so short it was basically up her, uh, wherever. Fun as that might have been, it would mean she’d never have a leg to stand on in a few years when Trixie was ready to ask for dating freedoms.

Dan was already going to press for parkas and mittens as a default clothes setting, Chloe could tell. She wasn’t even convinced that as a semi-stepdevil, Lucifer wouldn’t do the same, for all her blathered on about hedonistic freedom.

So, Chloe Decker was not a wild child (never had been), but she’d grown into her role as the first lady of _Lux_. Tonight, she’d opted for a classic little black dress, augmented a bit by the shimmering collection of sequins around the collar, and, okay, a slit at the right hip down to where the skirt ended midthigh. She was a detective, not a saint, and Chloe could have a bit of fun, despite what some of the precinct snarked about, even years after Palmetto or even Pierce. Currently, she was sitting at a banquette back---in _their_ banquette---watching as Lucifer took to the piano bench and started warming up with an instrumental riff. She thought they were the opening bars from _All Along the Watchtower_ , but she wasn’t one hundred percent sure. If it wasn’t a nineties jam, she wasn’t completely accurate about it.

She sipped her drink, something fruity again (the sangria had put her in that mood all week), and the Cosmos at _Lux_ were yummy. That much was true. Not worth twenty dollars a drink, and maybe Lucifer _was_ evil after all, but she got things comped on the house so she was content to have an easy night to kick into an easy weekend with the man she loved.

Or she was, until a woman who was as breathtaking as any of the usual clientele at _Lux_ \---easily as tall as Charlotte had been, a teal dress practically painted on, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut through granite, invited herself to slide into the opposite side of the banquette from her. Chloe narrowed her eyes at the intruder as she took a fortifying sip of her Cosmo.

While the banquette didn’t have a velvet rope around it or any other demarcation to mark it as the owner’s preferred VIP slot, it was the one she and Lucifer always claimed on the Fridays and Saturdays when Trixie was with Dan or having a sleepover with friends, when they’d start their nights in the club before retiring to the quiet of his space above for whatever they preferred, from Netflix and Chill to, frankly, crazier adventures lately. It was a common enough site at least since Valentine’s Day that most regulars at _Lux_ just knew to give this seat a wide berth.

Besides, it wasn’t like Chloe knew the woman and who would slide in next to her when other banquettes were free this early in the night. After all, it wasn’t yet eleven p.m.

However, perhaps the woman was confused or just a bit too drunk to find her way to an open seat. Chloe could help with that.

“This is a reserved seat,” Chloe said, trying to be as polite in tone as possible.

The brunette (and some small, petty part of Chloe wanted the fall of dark black curls to be half-extensions, but they looked genuine enough) shook her head and chose to lean her chin on her hands and her elbows on the small table before them. “This place was so much more fun before Lucifer got all up your ass.”

She blinked and set her drink down. Part of her wanted to slug the woman where she sat for being so rude, but about 95% of her was the same, old reliable Chloe Decker, and she knew how to de-escalate from possible confrontations. Taking a steadying breath, Chloe approached this the same way she would with talking down a suspect. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you.”

“Allison Van Clef,” the woman replied, her chin held high in a haughty air that gave Chloe the impression she _was supposed_ to ooh or aww over it.

Honestly, Chloe was drawing a blank, but they’d had such a huge case load this week and by Friday night, her mind had turned to mush.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met.”  
  


“No, of course we haven’t, although too bad you didn’t know my uncle well enough back when you were, uh, technically acting. He’s been Vice President of Boswell Studios for decades.” She shrugged. “That and my dad owns half the real estate in Santa Monica.”

_Ah that Van Clef_.

There had been a murder at a luxury condo complex he’d owned on the beach front about a year ago, a case she’d struggled with as one of her first without Lucifer by her side and striving to get back to a rhythm with Dan as her main investigative partner. Nothing had ever connected back to the family in anyway, but spending a few weeks on the condo property had definitely been enough to show that, yeah, that was a group of people with cash on top of cash.

“I guess you’re trying to say you’ve got a lot of clout in this town.” Chloe sighed. “That’s nice. I really don’t have anything against you, and I don’t want a fight. I’ve had a very long week, and I just want to watch my boyfriend play.”

Allison shook her head. “I’m not here cause I’m jealous.”

Chloe arched an eyebrow. She wasn’t Lucifer with his talent for drawing out desires or his disdain for lies, but she could tell that Allison at the least wasn’t being honest with herself. “So you’re not?”

“No. Everyone knew the rules. I had a fling with him years ago, back with Delilah was the headliner most nights, at least if he didn’t feel like doing more than partying. It was fun and the stuff he can do with bubble bath is probably illegal and---”

Chloe blushed and tried to put block not just Allison’s words out but the memories of a parade of exes years ago at the precinct. Seriously, what exactly _did_ Lucifer do with a car battery that made dudes love him? Wait, no, that sounded somehow painful and better not to question it.

“Okay, then you’re mad at me because?”

“The club’s not as good now! I mean, first you were clearly fighting with him for a while and he played that one dumb ass oldie for weeks and weeks. It cleared out half the place. Then, you’re _still_ fighting and he’s not here at all or just all pathetic in his bathrobe which doesn’t necessarily diminish the hotness, but it wasn’t great for the club either. Top it all off where, yeah, _Lux_ is still running for like six months but it’s only because Patrick and Mazikeen Smith are doing the general manager work…you’re bad for the club!”

“And you have frequent visitor privileges or something?”

Allison rolled her eyes. “No, but it _used_ to be a fun place. It was a great place to get some Molly, dance till dawn, and then get off. Hell, even a place to make a good deal in this town---and I mean a casting couch type thing---I’m in soaps you know.”

“Uh-huh,” Chloe said noncommittally. She didn’t have time for that at all, and was lucky if she didn’t work late nights on top of long days. “So, you’re worried I’ve ruined the integrity of the club?”

“Totally, and now he’s always playing stupid oldies on his sets, like stuff from the nineties! That’s thirty years ago!” the woman shivered in horror. “I wasn’t even born until ‘94!”

Chloe wanted to bang her head against the table but stopped herself from doing it.

“Well, sometimes things change,” she said, her tone growing tighter, but the other woman didn’t seem to notice or care. “Honestly, uh, Allison, there are other clubs even in this neighborhood, and if this one changes a little over time, then that’s not my fault. Lucifer chooses what he plays and how he runs things. It wasn’t my fault he had a family business trip to deal with for months. Believe me, I hated it too. And, you know, again there are many other clubs in L.A. Maybe you can try some.”

Toward the main floor, the crowd had fanned out around Lucifer. A spotlight was on him, and he’d moved from instrumental to one of those hated nineties jams apparently. In this case, something from _Savage Garden_ that Chloe might have mentioned a few weeks ago that she’d played on repeat in her trailer as a teen. His voice was as magnetic as ever, and Chloe couldn’t help but be distracted by it and, more accurately, the way every eye in the place, even the servers and bartenders who had to have heard it Lucifer sing more than even she had, focused on him with laser precision.

  
She wondered if all angels could sing like he did (fallen or not), and hadn’t ever quite had the courage to ask Linda if Amenadiel could carry a tune or had ever tried.

But the effect was clearly hypnotic for everyone there. Okay, point to this Allison girl; Chloe could admit that Lucifer only playing one song on a loop would be a waste of both his talent and the atmosphere of _Lux_ , but things hadn’t been like that in almost nine months.

And even when it had been, it hadn’t completely been her fault, at least not exactly.

There was a smack of a palm on the table, enough to get it to shake, and Chloe turned back to her rude “guest.” “I’m sorry. The best I can say is if you don’t like the music at _Lux_ , which I do not control, you can put in a comment card or---and I cannot stress this enough--- _go anywhere else_.”

Allison stood finally. Thank Go...wait couldn’t think that, needed to keep her mind from falling into that trap, period. Thank Fate, then.

The women gathered her silver clutch close and shook her head. “Seriously, this place used to rock. I don’t know what he sees in some boring housewife like you with the off the rack _T.J. Maxx_ special, but, damn, you’re dragging the whole place down.”

With that, the woman slunk back into the crowd.

Chloe grabbed her drink and drained most of it, grateful for the warmth in her gut. There was a sharp pinprick in the corners of her eyes, and Chloe blinked, trying to force the insecurities away. They were old ones. Perhaps it seemed paradoxical. People assumed she’d been popular or just like her character “Tiffany” in that stupid hot tub crap that had half-ruined her life and made her going through the force way harder than it ever had to be.

Ugh, help them all now that it was on streaming and poor Trix was about to hit middle school. Chloe was not looking forward to teasing and taunts about that to arise again. It had been painful for her at the precinct and with the paps. It would burn her worse if some middle school asshole kid was doing even more teasing of the movie that never stopped giving to her little monkey.

However, this was still familiar. She’d felt isolated most of the time on set between mostly just having co-stars and tutors. She’d always been so inherently responsible because of her dad’s rules and always trying to take care of her mom. Even on her Disney show, she’d never really made good friends in the cast because she was too straight arrow to drink or smoke grass or be even a little risky. Then the movie and her dad’s loss and taking care of mom. The endless butt of jokes for different reasons at the precinct, even after Lucifer left and a few assholes who’d been good friends with scum like Palucci and Malcolm had dubbed her the black widow for her partner record---or lack thereof.

It was always the same somehow.

Chloe Jane Decker was too plain, too ordinary, not enough in any conceivable way.

It ached every time to feel that fresh, and she couldn’t say that Allison Van Cleff ( _oh aren’t I so fancy_ ) was wrong.

There was no reason Lucifer should be interested in her even if he were just a normal guy with more money than he had brains (so true) and one of the most famous clubs in the city. Most days, even with him back and promising he wouldn’t leave her again with his siblings riding herd over Hell, Chloe felt that she was far from worthy of him, that somehow, Lucifer would realize she was just a mortal woman.

Nothing special, nothing to see her, move along.

After all, even if he _hated it_ , he was a once and future King, a quite literal son of God (even if clearly his dad’s least favorite), and an angel. Lucifer tended to emphasize the Fallen part of his resume and history, but he was still an angel with a voice that could hold an entire room captive.

She was just her, and her was a single mom with a recovering but definitely rocky career and too many brown shoes. Oh, and a dress she had really been proud of _and_ found on sale too before that rich snob had shot it down.

Lucifer probably felt the same thing about some of her wardrobe choices but was too nice or, well, too into her to care about the frumpiness of her dresses.

She rubbed at her eyes and took deep breaths. Patrick, the bartender, wasn’t inhuman as far as she knew, but the guy certainly knew his business and had a sixth sense for distress. He was at the banquette soon enough with a shot of Jack and a tall glass of water.

“Hi, Detective Decker. Don’t listen to her. She’s been escorted out and Barney down at the door has strict orders that she’s not going to be let back in.” Patrick looked to Lucifer who was schmoozing at the mic before he started into his next song. “I’m not going to tell the boss, and I don’t think it’s necessarily a great idea if you do either. I just…sorry I didn’t spot Allison any sooner.”

Chloe downed the Jack in one shot and felt herself loosen up even further. “You know.”

Patrick eyed Lucifer one more time and seemed to grow pale. “I’ve been the head bartender here long enough to know _not_ to ask questions about weird shit that goes on, and there’s been a lot of weird shit for almost a decade, Detective Decker. What I do know is that a shitty customer got tossed out for being rude to the boss’s girl, and we _both_ know that it’s best if the boss doesn’t have that to worry about too, right?” He shrugged. “Best for Allison too and, not going to lie, her sanity.”

She frowned. Lucifer wouldn’t---

No, scratch that, he might. It wouldn’t be a ‘no maiming or killing’ problem, and he’d left more than a few suspects screaming in asylums. He might very well do that.

She nodded. “Just between us, Patrick. Thanks for the drink.” He’d turned to go back to the bar before she called his name again. “Hey, Patrick?”

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“I…if you know, um, _something_ , then why do you stay?”  
  


“Cause he’s still the best boss I’ve ever had. He pays better than any other club in the city for loyalty, and when I needed a favor, he paid for my dad’s cancer treatment and the only price was that I stop and I quote ‘stop bloody shagging Maze behind the bar, just save it for the kitchen or the washrooms.’” He shrugged. “There are a fuck ton worse bosses than the Devil, so I guess take that as you will.” Patrick quirked his head at her. “Why did you stay, I mean, after you knew cause clearly you do now.”

“Because there are a lot crappier boyfriends and husbands than the Devil too. I mean, not that Dan’s awful. He wasn’t all the time, and our daughter loves him, but, yeah, as far as dating material, Lucifer’s definitely better, never made me feel confused in myself like that.”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah, makes you think a lot about the human race and not necessarily good things either.”

She raised her water glass to him in salute. “Exactly.”

He turned back to the bar and was off across the crowd, chuckling as he went.

Chloe leaned back into the banquette, enjoying the warmth of the drinks running through her (and her limited tolerance anyway), as Lucifer truly did start into a song that was an oldie. Like even older than her mom old:

_I put a spell on you  
Because you're mine_

_You know I love you  
I love you  
I love you  
I love you anyhow  
And I don't care if you don't want me  
I'm yours right now_

And like before, there was an element of magic to watching him croon. She wasn’t sure that Lucifer even realized he was doing it or was trying to mesmerize the crowd deliberately. It just was. Besides, his gift was desire, and she’d seen him do his schtick with that for years. Okay, so the one time during the masquerade party, it had run amok, but that was different. The way he sang, the utter excellence of it, drew the crowd in and left them in rapt attention. She could hear the way Patrick and several others behind the bar cleaned and moved glasses around, the slight clinking only audible because everything but their noise and Lucifer’s bright, clear voice were the only sounds in _Lux_ now.

Everyone else was drawn to his song, to him.

And she loved the way he owned the room, the pride he could safely take in it, but she still sometimes felt so unworthy, as if she’d never be quite enough for him, as if after Rome and their dark, bad year, she’d never feel quite like she’d earn his trust back.

Every time his subconscious played with his body, every time she watched him freeze before her as if expecting _that_ to be the one time too far, Chloe felt the undeserving guilt afresh. Because she wanted to tell him that she’d never leave, that he could trust her, but she knew those words would fall on deaf ears. That it would take time---perhaps years of it---and of her steady dedication before her believed her back. Truly.

Maybe even with Linda’s help before his own anxieties weren’t written into his very flesh.

But yes, as she watched, and the warmth of the Cosmo and the Jack worked over her, she was as mesmerized by him as everyone else, but she selfishly wanted him to sing for her, to feel she was his muse as much as he seemed to imply it.

Sighing, Chloe drank the water, and tried to sober up a bit. She got maudlin sometimes if she was too drunk; it definitely led her to think like on a party bus long ago. Eventually, she pushed her worries away, buried wounds that were old because she did have a tribe of loyal friends, damn it. She had a great daughter and a comfortable relationship with her ex so they could be there together for their little monkey, and she had a man---more than one really---who loved her.

She’d just keep working until he trusted her too.

Chloe was floating a bit, especially since she’d conned Patrick into a second Cosmo to sip as Lucifer finished his set, a mix of Sinatra and Semisonic, Nat King Cole and Soundgarden. Eclectic as he ever was.

After an hour or more, Lucifer finished singing, stood as the spotlight turned up more brightly on him, and took an elegant bow. Truth be told, the Devil did everything elegantly. Then, standing, he gave a gracious, regal wave to the crowd and strode with long, lithe steps to her. He smirked, a look of interest and mischief that he reserved more and more often just for her, and slid onto the banquette next to her.

Chloe held her head up a bit higher as she watched women and quite a few men in the crowd pout at the open PDA between her and Lucifer.

Okay, she so could be as petty and insecure as the next girl, so sue her.

Lucifer eyed her, brown eyes as deep and fathomless as always, although there was a hint of worry in them. “Why, Detective, I do believe you’re well and truly pissed.”

“I only had two Cosmos---totally yummy.”

“Amenadiel got Linda hooked on them and then she got the whole lot of you hens all agog over it too, didn’t she?”

Chloe giggled and ugh so did _not_ snort. Okay, maybe she did a little, but she was definitely a little drunk at this point; the Devil wasn’t wrong about that. “So, says you. I just had those two and some Jack Daniels. I feel great!”

Lucifer kissed her, and she relaxed at that, the way his tongue slid expertly over hers, his hands ran down her sides, and the hint of his cologne, something rugged that probably cost more than her mortgage, tickled her nose.

He pulled away too soon.

“I blame myself, Chloe.”

She frowned. No, they were about to have fun. She was feeling so warm and blissed out that she might even entertain one of his ideas of being a bit more public in the banquette, at least rounding bases like teenagers. “I’m good.”

He kissed her again, but this time it was soft and far more chaste than she’d have liked. “You’ve clearly been more upset by the Gonzalo case than I thought, if you’re getting soused, love.”

True, she hated cases when young girls were the victim. They were getting close to finding the right suspect, she could feel that much, but it was always hard. She overidentified too much with the vics, could too easily see Trixie in them. It was one reason why she was so up to being debauched (by her standards) at _Lux_ , even when she was already tired.

But she’d gotten tipsy…okay, _drunk_ because of all the nasty barbs from that Allison wench.

From old wounds.

From everything, but now she just wanted her boyfriend (still too small a word for the Prince of Darkness and the partner she trusted with her life but it was what it was) and to go up to the penthouse and, as he would put it, let him _shag her rotten_.

“No,” she said, sighing a little and setting her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m not…it’s not about that. I mean, that case is awful, but the lead from the waitress at _The Sands_ is promising and I think we can get this done. We always do.”

He nodded. “And there’s the fun knowledge now that eventually that ne’er-do-well will end up in Hell and I can assure you, Remiel is not as kind a warden as I am.”

She might have shivered at that even less than two years ago. But she understood the system. She still didn’t think it being based only in guilt was fair, especially for psychopaths, but it was as it was. For whatever monster had left Eileen Gonzalo, just a freshmen at Malibu State, in pieces…well, yes, it did take the sting out to know that one day he’d face a very certain and permanent kind of justice.

And Lucifer wasn’t wrong. Remiel had visited Linda’s just once when she’d been over. Ostensibly to finish arrangements to trade places with Lucifer but mostly to harass Amenadiel about keeping his son with those “monkeys on earth.” Lucifer was _far more pleasant_ than Remiel had ever been or, Chloe suspected, was capable of being.

“Yeah, and it’s good that there’s ultimate justice out there. It’s not that.”

He kissed the crown of her head. “Then what is it, darling?”

“I just…you light up a room.”

“Quite literally, actually, Detective. All the stars in the heavens and the planets and---”

She smirked. “Yes, the sun too. Don’t get too swelled a head.”

“I’ve gotten swollen other things, love,” he said, turning his hips toward her a bit, and she could feel his arousal even there. Maybe she could get him to stop fretting over her drinking and instead steer him up at least as far as the sofa in the penthouse.

Goals, goals.

“But seeing you out there in the club performing, singing for everyone, it’s magnetic. I dunno, wish you’d sing like that just for me.”

He frowned, seeming to be worried just a bit. “Darling, you never asked for a private review. I’d be more than happy to do so. However, I’ll remind you that I’ve dedicated a number to you in the past, unless somehow the Bangle don't count. _Eternal Flame_ is quite the classic, I'll have you know."

“I know, but sometimes I feel, never mind, it’s stupid,” she said.

He was the one who had so many issues to still work through by coming back home. It wasn’t her place to feel badly about this, to worry that he didn’t care as much about her as she wanted him too or, well, more accurately that he couldn’t yet trust her as deeply as she did him. She’d done that, even with Kinley manipulating her and so much crazy in that loft. She wanted to be there for him, wanted to be his rock. It was dumb and selfish to ask for things back when he was still home from Hell and fragile.

Lucifer looked down at her, and his expression was solemn. “Chloe, I’m hindered by my inability to elicit your desires. I wouldn’t want to violate you like that if I could, but I do wish for you to feel you can unburden your soul to me at any time. If there’s something eating at your mind, love, then say it.”

She sighed and looked down at her drink. The Devil never lied, but she did because there were some things she couldn’t say yet, some things that, even now, she couldn’t bear to hurt him with by being maybe too insecure. So, like him, she offered him what truth she could:

“Sometimes there is so much going on---at home with Trixie, on the job with so many long cases, you have Lux to run, and then there’s always something supernatural lately that seems to find its way here now that your reputation as permanently in L.A. is spreading.”

He nodded. “That’s true.”

“These moments like now or like at the beach…” and she did blush then, with all the memories of what his tongue had done and how much she’d screamed even on a public stretch of land and, okay, maybe she was a voyeur at heart to an extent too. “…and I guess I hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d even sung the _Eternal Flame_ bit as a joke.”

“It was an apology song, and I am still quite sorry for so many things, Detective.”

“Save that for never,” she said, stroking his cheek. “We only have so much time together, and I don’t want to waste it on regrets, just on moving forward.” She emphasized her point by getting to her feet or well trying to. The stilettos had been a great idea for her legs before when she was sober, right now, her head was swimming, and she’d have fallen over if her boyfriend hadn’t probably used supernatural speed to rush forward and catch her. Lucifer cradled her to his side.

“Let us retire upstairs, Detective. Perhaps some Netflix without the chill, as you seem a tad dizzier than we both first surmised.” He squeezed her shoulder tighter. “However, darling, you have my promise. Even with the chaotic and sometimes Celestial hustle and bustle of our lives, I shall always find time to serenade you.” Warm eyes regarded her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and so often she wished she felt more worthy of that regard. “I will always let you know how precious you are to me, Chloe, because have no doubt that I have crossed between two planes of existence and done deals with the most hellish of beasts---”

“You probably shouldn’t call your sister that,” she said, hiccupping. And okay, maybe she was way more drunk than she thought. What was Patrick adding to the cosmos these days.

“Oh, I should call Remi many worse things,” he snarked. “Now, Detective, let’s get you some rest.”

**

Chloe didn’t remember passing out. When she blinked awake, Lucifer’s bedroom was dark, and she couldn’t see much of anything. He must have pulled the curtains or soemthing because usually the moonlight or the few stars that could be made out through the Los Angeles light pollution would illuminate the room dimly. What she could remember, even as her head pounded a little, was that they’d made it to the sofa where she’d curled up on his lap and, for some idiot reason, agreed to watch the first season of _The Cabin_ with him on streaming. Ella had gotten him into the show, and she’d passed out pretty soon after they put it on, her amorous mood disappearing in her utter exhaustion. The long week, the sharp bite of Allison Van Cleff’s barbs, and the alcohol had all left her more wiped out than she would have guessed.

In the darkness, she rolled onto her side and looked at the clock. The blue letters blazed back that it was about ten past four a.m. Beside that was a bottle of aspirin and a water bottle. Chloe grabbed both and gobbled up the medicine. It was sweet that Lucifer was learning to keep things for her, that humans would need to heal. Even when he was vulnerable around her or could be injured, nothing medicinal worked for him in return.

She grinned at the thoughtfulness of her Devil and turned back to spoon up against him, but in the dark, her hand didn’t find him. Confused, Chloe ran her arms over the cool expanse of the sheets. Lucifer wasn’t there, and hadn’t been for a while.

That tended not to bode well.

If it were something apocalyptic, he’d have woken her and gotten her to Linda’s to be fussed over and watched by Maze. If it was a break in the Gonzalo case, they’d both have been texted, and he’d have helped her sober up to get to the station. But if Lucifer wasn’t curled up around her at this point in the night then…

At this point in his weird and unpredictable self-actualization journey, Chloe was certain something unconventional had happened to him.

_I shouldn’t have said I wanted more songs just to me. I shouldn’t have been jealous and made him worry and…_

Getting to her feet, Chloe took stock of herself. She wasn’t naked, but at some point, she had been---she always got so hot and weird being drunk and throwing off her clothes and complaining about the thermostat was so not a one time thing---but she was dressed in his old _Sol de Javier_ tee-shirt (at least he’d had it washed so no vomit still clung to it) and that was something at least.

Slipping out through the bedroom and to the steps, Chloe reached the threshold and stopped when she caught sight of Lucifer. The curtains here were drawn open widely and the waxing moon and its light lit enough of it up to see what had changed this time in enough detail.

At first, she almost thought nothing was different because a great pair of wings were curled up against his side. She’d only seen his feathered wings once before but these weren’t the same ones, as her eyes adjusted to the half-light of the moon in the apartment, Chloe could make out more detail of how Lucifer’s subconscious had run rampant now. The silvery light, filtered through the window, highlighted him from behind---his head and thick, dark hair still present, his shoulders and back as broad as usual, but the wings were tucked to his sides and a brilliant mix of rich colors like cobalt, turquoise, and aquamarine. As her eyes trailed lower, they raked over a long trail of tail feathers, almost as long as he was tall, stretching out toward the center of the penthouse’s main room, the tip of it almost brushing against the edge of his sofa. They two were a riot of colors, and even laced through with hints of gold and silver.

The trail of feathers extended down his legs, which bent wrong at the knee, and ended in huge talons that, okay, reminded Chloe a little of Ella’s bath tub chicken. Except huge, and powerful. After all, the impressive talons were digging into the marble tile of floor.

 _Holy shit, talons_.

This was…okay.

Alright, keep rolling with it. Chloe had no idea if this particular form was some angel thing or not, and before she could ask or get her wits more collected, Lucifer started to sing, something haunting and ethereal that sounded like no language she’d ever heard.

No earthly language could be that beautiful, not from a human voice; Chloe felt that much in her bones.

And as he sang, Chloe couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to saunter toward him on light feet and feel like he only need to ask, and she’d do anything and everything he wanted. Of course, that could be the last vestiges of the Cosmos talking too. Or just the long week and the need to find comfort and solace in the man she loved. Still, the song, ringing in a bright tenor with the occasional, surprising high notes, felt like a caress. Every note perfect, every tone hitting not just her ears, but resounding deeply in her heart and mind and soul. Lucifer continued to sing, his notes becoming a bit more mournful even as his voice took on a multi-tonal quality that echoed hauntingly around the room.

It made it feel as if the sound, itself, were surrounding her, and coming from every corner all at once.

And the words themselves---ones she was pretty sure no human had heard before---glided off his tongue, smooth and open, and maybe a hint of the way Italian or Spanish had such rich, rounded vowels. But then other sounds and sometimes the odd click that were nothing like she had heard before. Again, something probably an angel could make.

What was it Amenadiel had called the language?

Enog-something?

It was remarkable, all of it, and she was soon standing by his side, staring up into familiar dark eyes. Reaching up, she set a hand on his shoulder. It was human enough, but when she expected Lucifer to wrap an arm around her, she was surprised to find him unfold his right wing and curl it around her instead. She studied him again in the light, from this front angle, and it was obvious with enough light that the reason the angle of the differently colored wings had looked so off was because they weren’t additions springing from his back, but were tapered out from his shoulders where his human(ish) arms should have been. Her eyes dipped lower, falling the familiar planes of his abs until about his waist. After that everything became avian with brilliant feathers leading down to a sleek front, not completely unlike the Naga before, and those intense talons eventually.

Chloe offered him a genuine and grateful smile. “Hey, what was that song?”

He stilled and blinked, as if he hadn’t quite realized he’d sung himself. “I…oh, apologies, love. I’d no idea you were awake.”

“I am now, and are you okay?” she asked. “Not to pry, but usually things have to feel stressful for this to happen. Did something I say at the club…was it too much?”

He unwrapped his wing from around her and spread both out in a span that floored her. She’d only glimpsed the angel wings once and been mostly in so much shock over his leaving that she hadn’t been able to appreciate or digest their size. If his tail feathers (she was getting really good at rolling with all sort of things lately) were long, the wings were expansive and had to be bordering on between fifteen or twenty feet across.

When Lucifer seemed content with his stretched he started to wrap his wing back around her again, only stopping when he realized that he didn’t have arms, well typical ones, currently.

“Oh, I apologize. I hope the wing wasn’t bloody inconvenient, Detective.”

She laughed and ran her hand over the feathers of his right wing. They were impossibly soft like down, and as warm as a heating pad. This close, they even seemed to glow faintly, as if they had their own internal light of their own. But it was the softness that threw her the most. Even if they were clearly full grown feathers (Ella lectured about Margaret and molting. A lot.), they were of the softest substance she’d ever felt.

Chloe hummed to herself a little as she continued stroking them, and as she finally managed to coax Lucifer to wrapping it around her. It was like being wrapped in a living blanket.

“You’re really amazing. You do know that, don’t you?”

He stood up a little taller (not that he wasn’t enough already) at her words and she chuckled as even his tail feathers perked up just a bit. “Of course, I am.”

She strained up on tip toe to kiss him. “So, now that I’m not tipsy or tired, and I can actually do more than mostly just pass out in front of a bad TV show.”

“You missed the intrigue of _The Cabin’s_ pilot season. It was riveting, love.”

She snorted. “Been on that set, so I seriously doubt that.” Chloe burrowed a bit into the solid muscle of his chest. “Do you want some space or, well, if you want to be less worked up, I’m more than ready for anything you’d like.”

He smirked at her.

While she was still worried he had volleyed from obviously shy and upset about his subconscious’s tricks on him to embracing it all out if only because Lucifer tended to dig himself into huge vats of denial instead of actually work through thing, Chloe was also relieved. That smug expression she recognized. It had irked her in their early partnership, but she was glad to see such a carefree, satisfied look on his face after all they’d been through lately.

“I think I’m up for anything you are, darling.” He shook his head and quirked his lips a bit ruefully at her. “Although, I suppose that exploring the limitations of the form is always a challenge. Siren or my minds approximation of it.”

She frowned. Trixie had gone through a mermaid phase after the ballet stint but before her current president of Mars and alien obsession. “I thought sirens were mermaids?”

He shrugged and his feathers fluttered alongside her body. “I can lecture you on the history of Greek myths and how oral traditions got confused in the Middle Ages, or we could figure out a way to get you well and truly satisfied, Detective. Which would you prefer?”

She laughed at that. “I think I’m good with the having fun part instead.” Then she quirked her head at him thoughtfully. He did have a point though. She wasn’t quite sure what they’d do considering he lacked fingers currently among _other things_. “So, uh, gonna veto anything with the talons.”

Lucifer blushed just a little and coughed. “No, of course not. Something a bit different did come to mind. I…you already felt the pull of the song. That’s not actually related to my natural talents for desire, just from what a siren can do.”

She nodded. “And the song?”

“That was something I learned long ago back hanging out in Athens. I’ve not always palled around with everything that flew, crawled, or swam, but a few intriguing sirens I’ve met before. I will also say that Circe was bloody amazing to…” he shut up fast. “Anyway, she was a pain in the arse with all the magic and transmogrification though never too me.” He shrugged as best as he could, “Getting paid back on that now. However, she was quite real and quite the Hellion in spirit, herself.”

“It was beautiful.”

“It was something of theirs, not the one they used to lure sailors and drive the mad. Something more pensive than that.”

Chloe frowned up at him. “Brooding a little?”

“Nothing to fret over, love. And not exactly. One of the sirens, Demetria, she taught it to me. It’s a call to a love you’ve been separated from.”

Chloe nodded. That explained the haunting mournfulness threaded underneath it. She stroked the softness of his wing again, and was reward with the way he shivered against her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” he said, but his tone was a bit too nonplussed for her taste. “But I feel as if I’ve let you down somehow.”

“Is all this because I mentioned I wished sometimes you sang to me 1:1, that I got some of the headliner treatment. It was just a nice thought. I definitely don’t feel deprived.”

“Still, we both have a myriad of duties on our shoulders, and I don’t wish to ever take you for granted, Chloe. I just…I want to sing to you and feel closer, although I didn’t intend to wake you up either. I just couldn’t bloody help myself.”

“Well, I loved it.”

In fact, she’d more than loved it. The warmth of it…the intoxication had called to something hungry inside of her.

He nuzzled at her hair and then kissed her again. “Yes, well, there are many songs I learned from them, never had the same power coming from me as it did from them, but I think I’ve one that would be honestly _exciting_ in all the right ways.”

She studied him. “Huh?”

“Detective,” he said, spreading his wings wide and taking a few strides away from her. “Do make yourself comfortable on the couch, and in every way possible. I will sing you the song of the sirens that drives everyone mad, but in the good way.”

“There’s a good way?”

“Well, the non falling off the edge of the world in a ship way,” he clarified. That insufferable, amazing, _kissable_ smirk was back on his face after that comment. “This one will bring you to quite the edge, promise you that.”

She whistled even as she complied with his request, slipping to the sofa and making herself as comfortable as possible. “You can… _a siren_ can sing someone into orgasm?”

He blushed again and seemed to find his plumage fascinating. “Alas, not quite, but I can get you close in that way, with _quite the serenade_ , and I’d love to watch you, Chloe. See how you take yourself the rest of the way. Never watched you pleasure yourself, never thought of it, but I’d very much like to now, love.”

Some part of her blushed at that. It wasn’t something she’d really done with anyone before…at least not in the better part of twenty years, and she’d been barely nineteen then. And so long ago. She wasn’t sure as odd as it was that she quite had the exhibitionist streak for that. How could he possibly…then again, she’d already been fucked with abandon on a beach where anyone could have walked by and Lucifer always turned that dark, bottomless gaze of his on her when she came, as if he could somehow puzzle out the mysteries of the universe when she gave in to her climax.

He definitely couldn’t, but it was flattering to see all the same.

“Detective?” he asked, and for all his bravado and ability to accept (better at least) the weird quirks of his self-actualization, there was a hint of doubt in his words too.

She didn’t want him to confuse her doubts about herself with his own, and Dear Go… _nope, definitely have to get out of that habit_. Dear Universe, what a battered pair they made.

Chloe smiled back at him and slipped the _Sol de Javier_ shirt off. She tossed it across the room and chuckled when it came to rest on the top of the piano. “Sorry about that.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and his tail feathers twitched just a hint. “Do be aware of the piano; it’s a Steinway.”

“You set your drinks on it all the time.”

“I believe in the sanctity of nothing except coasters, my dear.”

She laughed again, and that was a weird part of all of this too. Sex with the Devil shouldn’t be this free and easy, even with his hang ups. It shouldn’t make her laugh every time in shared joy, should it? Well, back in Rome she’d assumed so many terrible, awful things, but where they were now, not to be harsh or to compare, but it was lighter and easier than things ever had been with Dan.

She wasn’t sure if that said bad things about her ex, things just in general about her being older and wiser, or was an endorsement for Lucifer.

Perhaps it was all three.

Chloe decided to take control now, to show him as she had since Valentine’s Day that she meant this, that she was in it for the long haul no matter what his body did or how he saw himself. She was here for it, and always would be. The months that seemed endless without him were her personal hell loop, and she’d do anything to keep him.

And, honestly, every experience had been enjoyable. Odd, yes. Awkward, sometimes. They’d definitely taken spontaneity and creative thinking on the fly, but she wanted him, and no matter the form, he was always just her Lucifer.

Chloe tossed her hair over her shoulder and propped herself up on a nest of pillows so that she was facing him and well supported, her legs stretched across the sofa and pointing toward him. Shoving two fingers in her mouth, she sucked at them eagerly, getting them wet, and enjoying the way Lucifer stared at her like a man about to taste a medium rare filet mignon.

She pulled her fingers out in time and traced her right hand over her chest and down the slope of her stomach, circling her belly button slowly, before tracing them back up to cup her breasts. Chloe arched her back and eyed him, daring him to make good on his promise as well.

“Can you sing for me? I mean, will you?”

Lucifer licked his lips, and that action alone was probably a carnal sin. No, scratch that. Had to be one. “For you, Detective, anything.”

And he started to sing, the voice as haunting as before, as light and dual tonally melodic. The language---something from sirens long dead---was luxurious and smooth, like the audio equivalent of fresh cream or smooth as silk butter. Although she didn’t understand the words and their meaning, as Lucifer’s singing grew in its intensity, Chloe could _feel_ the meaning, could feel the love and desire and utter need laced through them. It made her clit throb and her limbs flush with heat.

With her left hand she tweaked her matching nipple, then ran her hand around the circle of her areolas. The skin there was pebbling under her touch, and as Lucifer sang, his siren call invading her mind and starting to suck up every thought and urge until all she wanted was _him_ , Chloe could easily imagine his large hands in her place, the deft precision of pianist’s fingers playing with her nipples instead of her own.

Her right hand was still wet and she slid it down her stomach, past the stretch marks on her hips and down into the curls of hair of her mons. Lucifer’s song grew louder and his eyes were no longer brown, but glittering red in the half-light between them. Emboldened, Chloe smirked at the Devil and trailed her hand lower.

She spread her legs out before him, as if she were a star in a type of film she’d never ever done, but, ugh, had had a few offers for after that dumb hot tub mistake. But this didn’t feel cheap. Honestly, with Lucifer’s song burning in her brain and the ecstasy of it making her most sensitive bundle of nerves pound in time with her frantic heart, even this much exposure didn’t seem like enough.

She didn’t take her eyes off of his crimson ones, didn’t break the smirk either as she ran her index finger over her labia, teasing and tickling her most intimate folds. Lucifer’s song hit a higher pitch and a more frenetic pace, and her heart leapt in time with it. Wetness pooled at her core, and it was easy to slip her index finger and soon her middle also inside of her. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but as she listened to Lucifer song, as it thrummed in her veins and in every nerve ending, Chloe could stretch her imagination, could pretend both it was his fingers toying with her left nipple and his cock buried inside of her.

Chloe moaned, bucking her hips up against her hand, trying to get the best angle. As she contorted, she knew she couldn’t…that she wouldn’t be able to reach her G-spot, but she could at least make a concession to her own needs. She slipped her other hand low and pressed her left thumb against her clit and mewled again.

Lucifer’s words changed, they were still the language of the sirens, but this time more clipped and staccato. Chloe swore that instead of matching her heartbeat, that her clit was pulsing in time with his damn song. And it was edging her closer to climax already.

She rubbed fiercely against her clit now, her left thumb moving in erratic circles, even as her right fingers plumbed her depths, doing their best to keep a frantic pace with Lucifer’s tempo. A breeze---so incredibly warm an October night in Los Angeles---swept through the open window and swirled around her, caressing her side and sweeping over her breasts in a manner that almost felt like a loving embrace. Chloe didn’t have time to think much more on the heated wind that swept around her because Lucifer was going faster and faster now, a rising beat that she was frantically trying to match with thumb and fingers.

The entire time, she mewled and moaned and flat out started to scream at the pleasure of it all, that the warmth surrounding her and the fire erupting over her nerves as she felt just so very close to the edge.

Lucifer kept singing but moved over to her, his steps unsteady but still determined across the marble. He gave himself a wide berth across from the sofa, and spread his right wing wide, running the longest feathers over her stomach and breasts, then stopping his song just long enough to ask her something:

“Love, can you stand?”

Chloe shot him a death glare. “Now?”

“Erm, yes, I’ve an idea and I confess it just came to me.”

She giggled before sobering again. “Crappy word choice, Casanova.”

“Yes, quite, but if you can, I don’t think I want to only watch any longer.”

She frowned, not sure exactly what he was getting at, but she was desperate and so sensitive, so ready to come, that she’d do anything he asked in this moment. Chloe struggled to her feet, gulping a little at how intense the throbbing need in her nub had grown. She inched toward Lucifer and ran a curious hand down his chest, letting it stray over his waist where the first hints of beautiful turquoise and gold feathers spread across his abs.

“Idea?” she gasped, still breathy and desperate.

“Oh, just watch,” he replied, going back into the chorus of the song and the effect was immediate, the way it had her mind reeling and her body aching for him. Chloe started to reach down for the junction between her thighs when Lucifer swept out his right wing to stop her. “Darling allow me.”

She wanted to ask if it would hurt, if she might bend the feathers or snap a quill or whatever it was Ella would sometimes get on about when she got too excited about chicken care.

_Note to self, learn more about feathers for boyfriend’s sake…_

However, his singing had gone multi-tonal and into occasional pitches she was surprised he could reach, and she personally felt like she was about to explode any minute. If Lucifer was going to risk is vulnerable (probably?) feathers around her, then so be it. He brought his wing to her thighs and stroked them. The dexterity of hands wasn’t there, but there was more nimbleness in his wing than she would have thought, even now, and it was so soft, like having silk of the highest thread count brushed over her bare skin.

Chloe parted them wide, and Lucifer slid his wing in between them. His singing grew to a fevered intensity again, and she reached out to steady herself against his shoulders. His wing felt different than fingers or anything else there, the feathers together tougher and more resistant to bending than she’d have thought and so surreally soft and delicious against the her folds and her clit.

Lucifer pressed against her and then nodded.

_Ready?_

She could read the desire in those glittering eyes of his easily as it had to reflect her own. Chloe bucked her hips against his wing and shouted at the dizzying intensity of the sensation in her core, radiating from her clit. She gave up any pretense of modesty then (not that she’d had much to start with) and moved frantically against him, rutting into the wing for all she was worth. Lucifer never broke eye contact with her, nor did he stop singing---he was getting louder and faster somehow as if that were even possible---and still she fucked his wing, her body thrusting against its soft strength for all she was worth.

Lucifer twisted his wing just so and his feathers teased her most sensitive bundle of nerves the right way, and Chloe felt like she saw stars. The orgasm crashed over her like dozens of waves, and she rode them all out even as Lucifer, who had finally stopped his paean, still drove his right wing against her until she thought she’d melt before him. 

Finally spent, Chloe stepped back on wobbly legs and eased herself to the sofa. “Holy shit.”

Lucifer smirked at her even as he considered the mess of wet and tangled feathers of his right wing. “Nothing holy about that, Detective.”

She tossed a pillow at him that he easily deflected with his left wing. “Dork.”

“Hardly, love. Original bad boy here.”

She was not going to point out that the Devil whined about Monopoly losses and insisted on wearing novelty aprons while cooking. If he wanted to “prove” his prowess all night with her, she was hardly going to complain or steer him away from such a feat.

“Yeah, I…Look let me get a bit more stability back in me and I’ll get you a towel, k?”

He frowned at that. “Apologies…feathers are a bit more cumbersome in some ways. Glad these aren’t like the usual ones.”

She frowned. “I don’t get how. I mean the colors are super pretty but---”

“Oh angel primary feathers are bladed, the ultimate Celestial weapons. Without a bit of practice to keep concentration and them soft, well, that would be a ruddy mess, wouldn’t it?”

She tossed another pillow that he ducked.

“You’re so bad at explaining everything.”

“Well, I did now, didn’t I?”

**

It was growing toward the early dawn hours and the light of the star he’d made so long ago was rising overhead, filtering even through the Los Angeles smog and through his windows. Lucifer yawned from where he’d leaned against the arm of the sofa for support. With his talons---seriously self-actualization was bloody overrated and _more diabolical_ than he could ever be---but with his talons like this, sitting in any furniture, let alone lying in bed wasn’t possible. He needed the space. However, he’d half-dozed himself after such an experience with the Detective.

After she’d mopped up his right wing a bit. The feathers were a bit stuck together but if his mind would calm down already, they’d be gone soon enough anyway.

His detective was curled up on the sofa, the _Sol de Javier_ draped back on her, and only she could make a t-shirt that hideous almost fetching. Lucifer had his left wing draped lazily over her midsection, and now that he’d stirred about with the light, he couldn’t help himself from stroking her with his left wing, such as it was. She was tired and overstressed on their latest case, and something more than that had definitely prompted her to drink too much the night before. However, he had no mind to disturb her.

At least till the itching started. A maddening sensation of what he’d been told bug bites would have felt like if he’d ever been near an overeager ant or flea when the detective was near. He was sure that wasn’t the problem. He’d felt this itch before often in Hell when ash had made its way between his feathers, and he’d had to beg Mazikeen to preen them for him (after teaching her how of course). Back in the Silver City, when the universe had been young as had he, Lucifer had felt the same sensation many times, usually after racing his twin Michael or Amenadiel through the clouds so fast that he’d raise up a sweat that would dry too harshly on his skin and between his feathers.

But he’d never had the sensation run down his spin from the small of his back to his, seriously _sod off, Dad_ , tail feathers.

Of all insane things, he desperately needed a good preening _now_ , but he had no way to reach the small of his own back, even if he had hands to address the problem. In the Silver City, he and his siblings had done this for each other, a bit, one supposed, how human girls braided each other’s hair. It made the itching stop but also bonded them together as friends and family. He’d often preened young Azrael’s feathers for hours, especially after the other Host had played some harsh prank on her and left them astray and messy.

But fuck did he itch.

Lucifer tried to ignore the sensation, but that didn’t work. Then, he tried to even give a half hearted stir to his tail by wiggling it. It was as heavy, even for him, as it was long, and he didn’t make much headway with that either. The bloody tail feathers seemed to elude him, to not be as seamless to move as his wings. More like a damn anchor off his backside so far.

But he didn’t want to wake the detective, so, reluctantly, he left her side and walked as quietly as he could on oddly bent knees and grasping talons to his balcony. There, he twitched and twisted, even paced, but the itching in his back and tail feathers only grew _worse_.

He was half way desperate enough to just bloody call Amenadiel over---terrible idea but the _itching was driving him mad_ \---when a soft hand was on his shoulder. “Detective, I didn’t mean to wake you?” He winked at her even as his skin bothered him, and his feathers felt so badly twisted. “It’s not very late.”

“It’s already nine, and you seemed upset.” She frowned at him, and eyes like the calm of the Aegean Sea gazed back at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I…it’s a bit embarrassing.”

His wonderful detective leaned up and kissed his lips before speaking. “I’m sure it’s not.”

Lucifer coughed. “Yes, well, my feathers are itching.”

Chloe grew wide-eyed and, misunderstanding him, gaped at his right wing. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I guess I can try getting another towel if it dried wrong. I mean, Ella also was trying to get me to get a bath tub chicken too as a pet while you were gone cause she said I needed a hobby. There was this site about care she put up and---”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her and pulled back from her arms, a bit affronted. “I’m Fallen, but I was an angel once. I am _not_ a ruddy chicken.”

Chloe nodded. “I know, but it was great last night but maybe I messed up your wing till you change back and…”

He shook his head and used the tip of his left wing to brush her hair back from her face. “Detective, you misunderstand me. It’s mainly the feathers at the small of my back and base of my tail that feel ever so dry and tangled. I…would you mind terribly straightening them for me?”

She blinked. “I can’t hurt them, can I? I don’t know anything about birds---”

“Still not technically a bird.”

“That’s what has feathers _not_ from mythology and that I’ve seen before you,” she corrected. “I just…I can’t mess it up, can I?”

“No,” he said, forcing the snippiness from his tone. She was mostly human (miracle status aside), and it wasn’t Chloe’s fault he’d been an itching mess on the balcony for hours or too nervous to ask her for more. “Love, I promise, if something hurts or you accidently smooth out a feather wrong or snap a quill, I’ll let you know.”

“I…okay, but if I mess something up, you have to tell me.”

He grinned genuinely down at her. “Considering how bloody marvelous your fingers are under the best of circumstances, I doubt there’s anything you could do that I wouldn’t find comfort in, Detective.”

“Comfort?”

“Yes, preening was something my siblings and I did for each other. It’s for bonding.”

“Oh, okay, but I’m on a big learning curve,” she said, slipping around to his side, and angling herself toward the base of his back. “So, I just like pull out dandruff or something?”

“Bloody hell.” He let out a small, tense breath. “Perhaps, I should get you a book about parrot care or something. It’s _not_ what I am, but maybe you need to know about wings anyway in case,” he replied. “For this, just push your fingers into the feathers, get to their bases and brush them flat in the same direction. Just try laying them flat all the same way. It’s no more complex than that.”

Technically, it very well could be between angels who understood feather instinctively, but this was no more than he’d have asked of Mazikeen either. He needed the basics for now, just to make the discomfort stop.

Chloe nodded off to his side and he relaxed as soon as her fingers carded deeply through his nest of feathers and to their base. She began to stroke them then, slowly and hesitantly at first, but the itching began to subside as his poor back feathers and the tips of his tail feathers were put in proper alignment.

Lucifer closed his eyes and let himself fall into the pleasant sensations. He loved the feel of her fingers hesitantly but still skillfully---far better than Maze ever had even with eons in Hell---smoothing through the feathers. He’d missed this, the comfort and love (though of a very different kind) of having someone close to him, someone with a reverential touch (beyond that of a demon) card through his quills. Soon, he was letting out low moans and angling his body as close to her as he could, cumbersome as his form was, she that she could have the best access for preening him.

But still despite how downright _heavenly_ everything felt, he still had the worst itch at the base of his spine. Lucifer shivered again, and Chloe stopped.

“I…did it hurt? Did I mess it up?”

_Did she mess it up? Was the Detective mental?_

Lucifer shook his head. “Honestly, best bit of preening I’ve had since the Fall, love. However, I just…the small of my back won’t stop itching, and I don’t know why. Can you try digging deeper there?”

She nodded and did as asked, then he felt her fingers trace over something not a feather, grip it tight in confusion, then dear fuck the ache in his lower back eased a scintilla. Something felt lighter somehow, even as Chloe yipped and hopped back from him like she’d been burned.

“I think I broke something?”

The way it felt, she bloody well hadn’t.

He opened one eye lazily back at her. “I don’t know what you mean. That felt amazing. First time even a fraction of the worst itch was stopping.”

Chloe held up her right hand, which was slick with an oily sheen. “Did I manage to pop something?”

Both of Lucifer’s eyes widened in understanding. Angels had preening glands too, and he still wasn’t a damn bird, just Dad was only so creative and had cribbed the designs for fowl as a lesser version of his best work, angels. That was all. However, when he was more himself, there was a preening gland too at the base of his gleaming white wings, toward the center of the base of his shoulder blades. Angels didn’t need that oil released often, after all, their feathers didn’t tend to get dry, being as strong as they were.

But sometimes even angels needed a bit of help.

This was different, and he’d add sirens as a lesser design too in his book. The itchiness and _heaviness_ of the preening gland was downright excruciating, and the detective touching it just a little had made a world of difference.

“No, love,” he explained. “Just the preening gland.”

After that, Lucifer continued to relay to her the ins and outs of how feathers worked, and tried to not grow annoyed with the bird analogies. He was far from _Margaret the bathtub chicken_ , after all. So very not an idiot farm bird, thank you very much.

“So, do you think if I continued, it would help with the itchiness?”

“With everything, darling. If you don’t mind.”

Chloe shook her head and blushed. It was delightfully endearing to see her do that after everything they’d already done together. “No, your feathers are so soft, and even if it was a shock, when I touched the… _the that_ , seeing how relaxed you finally got was actually kind of a turn on.”

Lucifer nodded. He’d never felt anything amorous when being preened by a sibling of course. A precious few times in Hell, Mazikeen had heeded his advice enough to _gently_ remove ash from his wings with delicate adeptness. Once or twice, she’d even grazed the gland between his angel wings and it had felt _amazing_ , but when Chloe did it, it took his bloody breath away.

He craved more.

So very much more.

“Lovely, now if you don’t mind, Detective, I’d rather fancy you doing that some more.”

She chuckled to herself and reached into his nest of feathers again. Her fingers grabbed his gland delicately and stroked it, adding pressure each time she got to its tip. Lucifer closed his eyes and moaned.

“Just that, love. Tired of it feeling so damned full and cumbersome.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yes,” he said, just barely keeping himself from shouting at her. He’d been bothered by this need to be fully preened for hours, and she was so close to making the discomfort stop. It felt revelatory so far those few strokes she’d managed. He _needed_ more. “Don’t stop, please.”

Chloe nodded and bit her lower lip in determination, not unlike her look when figuring out a knotty snarl in a case. Her fingers were back on his gland then, stroking it firmly up and down, easing the oil from it. Her left hand joined her first one, this time low on his back where his spine hit his tail feathers. Chloe’s right hand kept up the delicious friction against his gland, even as the other spread the oil over the feathers, aligning the uncooperative ones with cunning ease.

Lucifer closed his eyes again and let the sensations wash over him, especially as the utter pleasure of her fingers squeezing his gland, teasing and working it until almost all the oil was out. There was one stubborn pocket left, and he opened one eye long enough to glance at her. “Just a bit more to go, Chloe. I just…” he paused, words failing him for once. “I need.”

Chloe nodded and her tempo increased, and Lucifer slammed both eyes shut again. Her nimble, agile fingers were working over him so quickly then, and he felt the final bit of oil splurt from his gland, and then an orgasm that, of all ridiculous things, sprang from his back and worked its way up in a riot of sensations through his arms and legs until he was left screaming his pleasure and stretching his wings wide.

In low his many eons of life, Lucifer had rarely come harder.

He barely wanted to move, although he kept himself from sagging to the ground after. The Devil could have just rested there, his eyes shut and him drifting to sleep, or he _would have_ until Chloe erupted into giggles next to him.

Lucifer opened his eyes and stared down at her, as she’d come forward and pulled her phone out from the bedroom. Perhaps he’d been blissed out longer than he’d realized.

“And what pray tell, are you plotting, darling?”

She was still laughing. “Can you see your tail over your shoulder?”

“I have tail feathers, but I hadn’t been able to make out much of them. Why?” he asked, arching his neck and confused at the wall of blue, gold, and teal behind him. “What on earth?”

Chloe held up her phone and stepped to the wall of the balcony. “Sorry, need some distance to get all of you. You’re a lot.”

“I’m bloody confused, is what I am.”

She snapped several pics and held her camera up for a while without touching anything, and Lucifer figured that was a video. He gave her a couple extra birds (two fingers raised eagerly on a backwards held hand) for her cinematography troubles.

“I swear, Detective, if Amenadiel ever sees this or Maze…”

She shook her head. “I figured I’d explain since you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Believe what?”

Chloe sidled over to him and held the phone up, opening up the images she’d taken. It was then that Lucifer gasped and the wall of feathers behind him flared with his shock. He could feel them spread out even more.

“I don’t sodding believe it!”

She chuckled again as she flipped through picture after picture of his large tail, rife with shades of cerulean, sea foam green, and golden plumage, arched high like a shield behind him. “It’s kind of like the NBC mascot.”

“I am _not_ a mascot,” he said, groaning a little at the video of himself and the extra birds included. Cheeky that. “Not a bird, either, technically speaking.”

“No,” she said, finally shoving the phone onto a nearby table before soothing his slightly sore feelings with a kiss that left him hungry for more. The minx. “But you’re definitely a peacock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my conception of a siren, I was inspired by this art - http://forums.smitegame.com/showthread.php?38945-Siren-The-Femme-Fatale
> 
> I was also referencing some lovely and helpful peacock pics as I wrote -  
> https://www.haiths.com/peacock/ 
> 
> **and**
> 
> https://www.123rf.com/photo_90366189_male-peacock-bird-open-feathers-tail-pavo-cristatus.html

**Author's Note:**

> The "Devil has cold seed"/the Devil is cold in bed really is another Puritanical/religious superstition about Satan and demons in general - https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/kza5k3/sex-with-demons-was-totally-chill-until-the-church-ruined-it


End file.
